


Firsts

by Dragonsquill (dragonsquill)



Series: Building Blocks [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: BB!Durins, Babies, Big Brothers, Family Feels, Fili/Kili Barely Implied (For Now), Gen, Little Brothers, Little Sisters, M/M, adorableness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-18 19:43:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1440466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonsquill/pseuds/Dragonsquill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Herein lies a collection of baby Durin stories.  Each chapter is a standalone story telling of a first in the lives of Fíli and Kíli.  It starts on the first day Kili decides to come out and join the rest of the world and carries on from there.</p><p>The sugar warning is high with this one.  Yes.  Very high.</p><p>Stories: First Kiss, First Words, First Vow, First House, First Birthday, First Engagement, First Injury, First Job, First Pet, First Advantage</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CassieCreates](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassieCreates/gifts).



> [Blanket Permission Statement](http://dragonsquill.tumblr.com/permission)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli is very excited to become a big brother!
> 
> But a little confused about exactly how that happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On ages: There are as many theories for exactly how dwarves age as there are dwarves. For an explanation on how I figured ages for this (and other) fics, see [this tumblr post](http://dragonsquill.tumblr.com/post/82501190181/on-dwarf-aging).

The first time they kissed was the day Kíli was born.

Fíli had been very, very excited over the previous days, because Mama told him that the baby would be coming soon and Papa helped him put soft new blankets in the baby’s bed. Both Mama and Papa stuck close to their borrowed rooms in the Iron Mountains, just in case the time came and Papa needed to run and get Mr. Oin. Fíli had been born “on the road” and Mama said that the new baby would be born somewhere safe, so they were staying with Cousin Dain for a few months.

Fíli knew that being safe was good, so it wasn’t _so_ bad staying in the Iron Hills, even if they couldn’t be in the camp with all the others. If his little sister was safe, he’d be happy.

And it would be a little sister. He was determined of that.

“We don’t know that she’s a girl, sweet one,” Mama said as he curled beside her big belly and pressed his ear against it. They were on the giant bed in Mama and Papa’s room. He liked the bed. It was tall and fluffy and different from the pallets they used in camp. The sheets were really soft and there were furs at the end in case it got too cold.

“’Course she’s a girl!” Fíli scoffed. “Her name’s Kís.” Fíli was named after Papa and Mama, the “í” like Mama and the “li” like Papa. Baby Kís would be named after just Mama because she was a girl. 

“Or Kíli,” Mama reminded him with amusement, tugging at a tangle in his hair. He pouted and tried to move his head out of the way, but then he couldn’t listen to his sister. So he gave in with a sigh of resignation. “For a boy.”

“She _has_ to be a girl, Mama!” 

“And why is that?” Papa asked as he settled on the bed next to them. He smelled nice, like smoke and roast pork. Fíli gave an appreciative little sniff. 

“’Cause I wanna be a big brother,” Fíli announced, “so I gotta have a little sister.”

Papa laughed. He had a nice laugh, all big and bouncy. Mama laughed too, but hers was softer and prettier. Papa had the best laugh for getting up in the morning, but Mama had the best laugh for tucking Fíli in at night. “Fíli, you’ll be a big brother either way!”

“No.” Fíli was certain about this. “Papa is a big brother because of Auntie Tyrda, and Uncle is a big brother because of Mama.”

Mama reached out and gave one of Fíli’s curls a playful tug. “Uncle Thorin became a big brother when your Uncle Frerin was born,” she said, “not when I was born.”

“Nuh _uh_. Big brothers have little sisters. And big brothers keep them safe, and make sure they eat, and play games with them, and teach them important things, and don’t let anybody tease them just because they’re girls.”

“Just because they’re girls? Who told you that, sweetness?” Mama asked.

“Uncle Thorin.”

Papa laughed again. “I’m pretty sure that your mama remembers to eat better than your uncle, and nobody teases her because she’d beat them up herself.” He leaned over and kissed Mama lightly on the lips. They did that a lot. Fíli didn’t mind because that meant they liked each other and that was good. He did squirm a little impatiently when they decided to kiss _again,_ just because this was _important_. Being a big brother was the most important thing _ever_.

“But you can do all those things for a little brother too,” Mama said when they were done kissing. “Don’t worry, Fíli.” She stroked his cheek and tapped his nose. “You’ll be a wonderful big brother no matter what.” She shifted against the pillows. “And I believe you will be a big brother very soon indeed,” she said, and gave Papa a look that Fíli didn’t understand.

Papa suddenly sat up very straight. “Now?!” he asked, his brown eyes shining with excitement.

“Now,” Mama said. “It’s been long enough you can go fetch Oín.”

Papa gave her a funny look, muttered, “And you didn’t think to mention it before?!” and ran out of the room.

 

Fíli didn’t get to stay while his new little sister was being born, but that was okay. Papa said it was really gross anyway. It took a super long time, too, all night! Fíli tried to stay up, but he finally fell asleep curled up in a chair in his cousin Dain’s room. Dain was nice, even though he was _old_ like Uncle Thorin and Mr. Dwalin and Mr. Balin. He told funny stories and didn’t mind answering lots of questions. He had a son, too, whose name was Thorin like Uncle Thorin, but he was a lot older than Fíli, almost twenty. 

He woke up as Papa picked him up out of the chair. “I’m ‘wake,” he mumbled, and Papa chuckled.

“I see that, my fierce little Tiger-Eye,” he said as he carried Fíli into the hallway. “I’m glad to know you’re ‘wake,’ since it’s time for you to meet the baby.”

Fíli was suddenly as wide awake as he claimed. He wiggled to sit up in Papa’s arms, wrapping his arms around Papa’s strong neck. His small, square fingers tangled in Papa’s hair, brown and honey and gold like Fíli’s. “Kís?” he asked with a little wiggle of excitement.

“Ah, well.” Papa stepped into Mama’s room. “Not quite.”

Mama looked very, very tired but also very happy. She was sitting up in the bed in a pretty new nightgown, her hair in a neat braid, and in her arms was a little wrapped-up bundle. “Fíli,” Mama said warmly, and she patted the bed.

Papa set him in that very spot and Fíli cuddled to Mama’s side, astonished to see that a lot of her big belly had gone away. There really _had_ been a baby in there! (Cousin Dain told him that baby dwarflings were brought up from the mines, but Papa said that was silly and dwarflings came from Mamas; Fíli _knew_ Papa would only tell him the truth, but still . . . everything _else_ came up from the mines! Maybe Papa was a little confused.) He kissed her cheek, giggling when her beard tickled his chin. 

“Fíli,” Mama said, “I’d like you to meet your baby brother.” She shifted the bundle so that he could see. “This is Kíli.”

Fíli scowled.

He looked between the baby and Mama. “But. He’s a _boy_.”

“Yes, sweet one, he is.”

Fíli bit his lip. “But I…” The disappointment was _crushing_. He didn’t know what to do, but he didn’t want to cry in front of Mama! He’d so wanted to be a big, strong brother like Papa and Uncle Thorin!

“Kíli,” Papa said, “is your sweet and loving baby brother. And you,” he gave Fíli’s shoulder a squeeze, “are his brave and loving big brother.” He sat down beside Mama and tugged Fíli into his lap. “I don’t know how you got this idea about big brothers only having little sisters in your head, but Kíli is your little brother. That means he’ll be lots of fun. You can learn to hunt and fight together.”

Fíli snuggled into Papa’s chest. “But Cousin Dain said-”

Mama huffed. Fíli’s eyes widened a little – it was never good when Mama huffed about something. “I should have known it was that rascal who put that idea in your head. Here, now.” She nodded to Papa, who gently took Fíli’s sharp little elbows and rearranged them. Then Mama leaned forward, just a little, and laid her bundle in Fíli’s lap. “It’s time for you to meet your brother. Then you’ll know that you belong together, even if he _is_ a boy.”

Fíli looked suspiciously down at the warm, heavy baby in his lap.

Big, dark eyes blinked up at Fíli, a tiny fist curled against one plump cheek. Mama tucked the blanket back a little, and dark brown curls poked out. 

“Say hello, my love,” Mama told him fondly. 

Fíli stared, completely awe-struck. The baby was so _little_. He looked like _Mama_. He had teenie-tiny fingers. He-

Yawned.

Oh. That was _so cute,_ that was cuter than _all the kittens_ Cousin-Thorin-not-Uncle-Thorin had hidden away in his room. Even the _orange_ one with the stubby little tail who was Fíli’s very very favorite.

“Hello,” Fíli said. He meant to sound very adult and grown up, but it came out as a whisper.

“Hello, _Kíli_ ,” Papa prompted.

“Hello, Kíli,” Fíli said, and even though he’d fought that name for three weeks and he’d _known_ the baby’s name would be Kis, now he found he really, really liked it. Kíli. Fíli and Kíli. He beamed.

“You should introduce yourself,” Mama said as she stroked Fíli’s hair.

“Oh!” Fili jumped a little (but only a very, very little, because he didn’t want to bother the baby and the baby was in his lap, all warm and sleepy and heavy). “I’m Fili.” He bowed his head. “At your service.”

“Fíli,” Papa told Kíli, running his rough fingertip over the baby’s tiny forehead, “is your big brother.”

Fíli’s eyes lit up. “Yes!” he cried, utterly relieved (and thinking maybe he should stop asking Cousin Dain any questions at all). “I’m your big brother. Fíli!”

Mama laughed gently and leaned down just as Papa did. They both planted loud kisses on Fíli’s temples – Papa on the right and Mama on the left. They liked to do that. Fíli liked it too.

Fíli wondered if Kíli would like it.

He decided to give it a try.

Fíli leaned down and planted a noisy little kiss right on Kíli’s soft face. He’d been aiming for his cheek, but the baby yawned again and turned and Fíli hit the little bow of his mouth instead.

Well, that was okay.

As long as Kíli liked it.

The tiny fist tapped Fíli’s nose.

So Fíli decided that he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _My older brother was extremely excited when I was born because until the day I arrived the doctors said I was a boy. And my parents couldn't figure out why he was suddenly vibrating with five-year-old joy until he revealed that he didn't think he'd get to be a big brother because I was a "boy," and big brothers have little sisters. Sooo...little sister instead of little brother = best day ever. Also, fanfic fodder. Thanks, bro._


	2. First Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíli is about to have his very first birthday, and it's very important that Fíli gets him the right present. He goes off in search of advice from experienced big brothers of his acquaintance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fíli is 6 and Kíli is 1, comparatively 4 and 9 months, though it is noted that Fili is an extremely well-spoken child. I figure that they pick up more advanced speaking at an earlier stage of relative development since they have been listening to talk all that time.
> 
> Unlike all other chapters of "Firsts," the points of view here are adults and not Fíli and Kíli themselves. This was because it was written on my "birfday," so I just chillaxed and let it flow as it would.

“Mama.”

Dís looked down at the tousled honeyed head of her eldest. He was looking especially earnest at the moment, blue eyes wide, thumb inching toward his mouth. She leaned down and gently pulled the thumb away – that was a habit she didn’t have much patience for – and asked, “What is it, sweetheart?”

Fíli shifted from foot to foot, all quivering energy. “Mama, it’s almost Kíli’s birthday.”

Dís chuckled. “That it is.”

“He’ll be _one_.” He said this in a reverent voice most dwarves would save for speaking of Mahal himself. “One year old.”

Dís chuckled. The baby in question was currently fast asleep, exhausted after a fine crawling session around the tent. Since the person he’d be crawling after was Fíli, she was a bit surprised that her eldest wasn’t curled up for a nap as well. “He will be.”

Fíli nibbled on a knuckle. “Will. Will we have a party?”

“Kíli’s a little young for a party, sweetness. He wouldn’t know what was going on. We usually start those on the third birthday.”

Fíli’s small face twisted up. “Then how will he know it’s his birthday?” Fíli had recently lost two teeth, and the word came out “birfday.” She had to fight the urge to swing the boy into her arms and cover his cheeks with kisses. He’d get annoyed if she did – Fíli didn’t like it when people kissed him while he was being Very Serious as he was right now.

“He likely won’t. …We could have a special dinner, if you want.”

“He only eats mushy stuff.”

“But he _likes_ to eat it.”

Fíli stuck his tongue out briefly. “Yucky mushy stuff.” He hopped from foot to foot then asked, “What about a present?”

Dís paused a moment. She honestly hadn’t considered a present. On Fíli’s first birthday, they’d kissed and sang to him, but there was no need for dinners and presents – he was more interested in the kisses and songs anyway. She supposed she should have known things would be a bit more complicated with two sons – it certainly always seemed to be! “Would you like to get him a present?”

Fíli nodded so fiercely that his small braids bounced off his cheeks. “Yes! Kíli needs a present!” He beamed and hugged her as fiercely as his little arms would allow. “I’ll pick something!” A breath and then, “Um…what should I pick?”

Dís couldn’t help her smile. She rarely could where her boys were involved. No one had properly warned her about what motherhood did to you – how exhausting it was, how nerve-wracking, how absolutely, blissfully happy and filled with laughter. “Well, I’ve never been a big brother,” she said, “so maybe you should ask around.”

Fíli’s eyes widened. “I’ll-I’ll ask Uncle Thorin! And. And,” he thought hard, which caused his handsome little nose to scrunch up, “and Papa.”

“And Mr. Balin,” she suggested. When she’d been a girl in Erebor, Balin had seemed like a stuffy older cousin, indeed; in their years wondering, she’d grown terribly fond of him and considered him her dearest friend. He had a wry humor and gentle soul she appreciated, and he was also very good with her sons.

That he knew amusing stories about her brothers' troublesome youths was a nice bonus.

“And Mr. Balin!” Fíli turned on his heel and ran a few steps before suddenly remembering himself and turning around. “May I go find them?!”

“They should all be right around here,” she answered. “Make sure you can see our fire and there are adults all around.”

“Yes, Mama!” Fíli chirped, and off he ran at his best run, which was a bit ungainly and terribly cute.

\-----

Thorin was always a little unprepared for his nephew.

He was extremely fond of Fíli – it was hard not to be, the child charmed everyone he met, all little-boy-politeness with an odd dash of pint-sized arrogance – but he was away more than he was in camp since the boy was born, and he didn’t quite know . . . well.

What to do with him. 

So when Fíli came marching up to him in his little boots, looking determined, Thorin straightened his spine while simultaneously trying to look approachable. Balin would have done that sly-smile-I’m-not-laughing-at-you thing if he could have seen him now, because Balin was the most polite ass in the history of Arda. “Fíli,” he greeted the child in what he hoped was a friendly way. 

He was ridiculously unused to being friendly. He needed to get out of the villages of Men and back among his own people where he belonged. 

“Uncle Thorin!” The child didn’t beam like he usually did as he approached. He looked . . . earnest? “Uncle Thorin, I have a _problem_.”

This. Sounded very serious. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, immediately concerned. His gaze rose and he searched the camp, feeling some relief when he met his sister’s light eyes and a smirk he absolutely imagined his nephew inheriting. Ah, then. She’d sicced Fíli on him for some kind of private amusement. She was obviously convinced that, whatever this was, he would mess it up.

She was quite possibly right.

He really needed more practice around children.

Fíli took a breath and then the _words_ came. “It’s almost Kíli’s birthday and he’s going to be a whole year old and I’ll have been a big brother for a _year_ but there won’t be a party because he’s too little but Mama said I could pick his present but I don’t know what to pick. But YOU are a big brother, a good big brother, Mama says so, so I wanna ask you: what should I get Kíli for his birthday?”

And he gazed up at Thorin with eyes of trusting blue.

Thorin balked.

He had _no idea_.

Which was ridiculous. He was the eldest of three children. He couldn’t properly remember Frerin’s first birthday but he certainly remembered Dís’s. There’d been . . . a small celebration, and a few gifts from family members. Clothes, he recalled, some dresses. Maybe a doll? He hadn’t been particularly interested in Dís’s gifts since he was the one stuck with chasing after Frerin, who was significantly more obnoxious than Fíli at this age. He basically remembered her first birthday as an annoying blur of dark brown hair and giggles climbing on things that were far too high for comfort while visions of what his mother would do to him if Frerin broke some important part of his annoying little body danced through his head.

“Dís was given clothes,” he said.

Fíli frowned. “Clothes?”

Thorin nodded. “Dresses.”

The look Fíli gave him was both suspicious and spectacularly unimpressed. “Kíli,” he said in a voice that was so careful it was almost patronizing (the child was _six_ ), “doesn’t wear dresses.”

“Ah, no-”

“Kíli is a _boy._ ” He said this in a way which implied he thought perhaps Thorin was somehow unaware of this.

“I didn’t mean that you should give him dresses, only that clothes are useful.”

“But,” Fíli shook his head like this was the most important conversation in history and here he was, utterly disappointed in his only uncle, “clothes are _boring_.”

Thorin couldn’t really argue with that.

\-------

Nali was a dwarf who enjoyed life.

Not that many dwarves could blame him. Despite the fact that he spent his days wandering the wilderness with the Longbeards after a fairly easy life growing up in the Iron Hills, Nali had a life it was easy to envy. His wife was a great beauty whose beard and wit were unmatched. He had two handsome sons who rarely fought and the baby had slept through the night from his third month. He held an important job as one of the camps’ best hunters and bowmen. 

All in all, there wasn’t much to complain about. Well. He did have to wear his beard short because of his profession. But Dís assured him he looked handsome with a short beard, so who was he to argue? No fool, Nali, to argue with so formidable a woman.

And here came one of the number one reasons he loved life. “Afternoon, Fíli!” he said cheerfully as his son approached.

Fíli was looking fairly disgruntled. This wasn’t terribly unusual. He could be a moody little thing from time to time, though he was by and large a happy child. Nali was quick to remind his wife that moodiness was a trait from her side of the family, which usually earned him a cuff somewhere on his body. Such a beautiful and violent wife. He congratulated himself daily for convincing her to marry him. “What’s brought on this almighty scowl of yours?” he asked, dropping comfortably to the grass in case Fíli should want to get in his lap.

Fíli eyed the lap a moment, but didn’t take it. Instead he bit at his knuckle and mumbled around it, “Mama said there’s no party for Kíli’s birthday.”

 _Birfday, oh Mahal this child is the best child in the world_ , Nali thought merrily. He had always adored children. He’d been a responsible babysitter by forty, with a trail of dwarflings in his wake (a good thing, too, as his spoiled baby princess hadn’t had a clue when Fíli first joined them). “We hadn’t thought about it,” he admitted. “Why?”

“I wanna give him a present.”

“Well then, my handsome warrior, that is what you shall do.”

That earned a brief smile before Fíli resettled into shuffling his feet and looking terribly worried for a six-year-old. “But I don’t know what to give him.” He shot an odd sort of betrayed look across camp at what appeared to be their crown prince. Oh dear. “Uncle Thorin said to give him dresses.”

Nali swallowed a laugh into a sort of snorfling sound. “Dresses?” The mental image of his extremely busy Kíli trying to crawl around in a proper dress for a princess made him chuckle to himself. Half the time he and Dís just threw their hands up and let the baby loose in his diaper and long underwear without bothering with proper clothes.

“Or clothes. But that’s _boring_.” Fíli made a little snorting noise. “Kíli has to have a _good_ present. It’s his _first_ birthday.”

Nali smiled and reached out, catching his son’s wrist and pulling him closer. Fíli came along easily enough and even tilted his head forward a bit when Nali reached for his son’s messy braids. His hair was only recently long enough to braid properly, and Nali was determined that his son look proper and presentable. He wasn’t completely unaware that his child was a son of Durin, that his grandfather was King and his uncle Crown Prince. 

He also liked braiding, so why not?

“Then you should think about what Kíli likes to do,” he said gently as he unwound one little braid and started running his fingers through the silky hair. Fíli was so very much his son in looks, save those Durin-blue eyes, but he had a feeling there was a long streak of Durin stubbornness under there. He hoped his boy had enough of his humor to temper it. He thought he did.

Fíli frowned to himself, his tiny brows drawing thoughtfully together. “Kíli likes to . . . crawl. And. Make noise. And chew on things.”

That was a pretty accurate overview of Kíli’s current interests. “Then you should get him something for that.”

“Something to . . . crawl on?” Fíli asked, looking confused.

Nali chuckled. “Something to chew on might be easier. I’m sure we could purchase some biscuits or bread for him.”

“But he’d _eat_ it!”

“That’s the idea.”

“And it’d be _gone_.”

Nali closed the braid off with the tiny bead he’d whittled. Nali wasn’t a great hand with metal, but he knew wood – his interest had grown out of shaping his own arrows. Wood was an unusual material for a dwarf, but he thought it suited his little warrior. “Aye, it would be, yes.”

“I can’t give him something to be _gone_.” 

And Fíli actually _tsked_ at him.

…That child was spending entirely too much time around his mother.

\------

Balin, son of Fundin, fulfilled a number of roles since King Thrain had sent him and his brother back to the Longbeards’ camp. Though he was known as an advisor to the king, he truly fulfilled that role for their prince (who refused to be referred to as king, though Balin and his brother quietly thought of him as such). Being advisor to a prince without a proper kingdom meant being, in essence, a jack of all trades.

Being close friends with said prince’s sister meant a number of jobs as well, chief among them teaching her sons to read when the time came (she had elicited that promise the day Fíli was born – just plopped the baby in his arms and said, “You’ll be teaching him when I say it’s time, so I’d like you to know him from the beginning”) and occasionally being saddled with additional babysitting.

Right at the moment, however, he had discovered a new position: advisor to the prince’s sister-son.

“You want to get a present for your brother,” Balin repeated, just to clarify. It was a habit he had developed from a lifetime of dealing with difficult dwarves. 

Fíli nodded. He was twisting the hem of his tunic in his hands with nervous energy, and looked both tired and restless at once in a way somewhat reminiscent of Dwalin at that age (though in a more good-natured way; Dwalin had been a terror and a brat; perhaps one day he would outgrow one or both of those traits). 

“But you’re not sure what to get?”

Fíli nodded. “Uncle Thorin said clothes,” _he would_ , Balin thought with amusement, “but that’s boring. And Papa said biscuits, ‘cause he likes to chew on stuff, but that would go away.”

Balin considered this dilemma gravely. This was clearly important to the boy, and so he would give the problem the attention it deserved. “Traditionally,” he said, “when we give a present to someone important to us, we make it ourselves.”

Fíli chewed on his lip and tugged at the braid over his right ear. “Like my beads,” he said carefully. “Papa made them.”

“That’s right. And your mama made your boots, and your uncle made the clasp on your belt.” Balin reached out and tapped the small, expertly made buckle. Thorin may be awkward with the boy, but one of the few times he seemed relaxed and happy was in making small, useful articles for his sister and her children.

Fíli thought this over. You could practically see the gears moving in the child’s head – Fíli was a very bright little thing (his father said so often, of course, but Nali was biased; Balin had a clearer view and still had to admit he agreed). Although generally sweet-natured, he sometimes would settle in and worry over a thing for hours, if he thought it important enough. Of late, that usually meant something to do with Kíli. Fíli took his role as a big brother extremely seriously. “I don’t know how to make anything,” he said, in an uncharacteristically small voice. “I’m not allowed to touch sharp things.”

Balin hummed as he worked through this dilemma. “Then you could help someone who does know how to make something. Babies like soft things, I believe.”

“Kíli does,” Fíli said, with a serious nod of his little head. 

“I have a friend who can make soft toys out of wool or leftover fabric,” Balin continued. She was also extremely fond of small children and had two of her own, so she wouldn’t mind his plan. “I could introduce the two of you, and you could help her plan a toy for your brother, and you could watch how it’s made. Sewing is a useful skill for any Dwarf.”

Fíli looked away, up, down, and back again. “I could help?”

“You could help.”

“So it’d be special?”

“Very special.”

“And Kíli could keep it?”

“Kíli could keep it,” Balin confirmed.

Fíli stood very still for a moment, clearly weighing the pros and cons in his little boy way. Then a grin spread across his face and lit up his eyes in a way that was going to absolutely break hearts one day. Balin felt himself smiling back. “Okay!” the boy chirped enthusiastically. “Thank you, Mr. Balin!” 

He threw his chubby arms around the advisor in an enthusiastic hug. 

\------

On Kíli’s first birthday, Dís made some special biscuits at Fíli and Nali’s request. Thorin joined them for dinner, as he often did, but so did Balin. The advisor looked mildly amused the entire meal, watching a nervous Fíli squirming at his father’s side. The two of them had been very secretive indeed the last few days. 

Kíli drank in the attention, crawling from one lap to another (including, and perhaps most often, his brother’s) and generally making a nuisance of himself. His wild, dark hair stuck out in curls around his cheeks and he giggled often. His latest trick was loud kisses, which he bestowed freely upon his mother, father, and brother, and more shyly on his uncle and, to her friend’s clear surprise and delight, Balin. 

Kíli was in Balin’s lap when Fíli politely (and twitchily) excused himself to go back into their tent. He came out holding what appeared at first to be a mismatched lump of fabric. The baby looked up when his big brother came to a stop in front of him.

Fíli took a deep breath and said, “Happy birthday, Kíli, I’m glad you’re my brother and we get to be brothers a whole year.” And then he shoved the fabric at the baby.

Kíli cooed with delight and looked the toy over with his usual bright curiosity. It took shape in the evening light – a stuffed toy, designed with long limbs and a tail for easier grabbing and carting around. Kíli grabbed one of the limbs and gave the toy a good wave, whacking Balin firmly in the chin with it.

“It’s a kitty,” Fíli explained. “You can stick it in your mouth and that’s okay. It’s a special fa-br-ik.” He said the last word very carefully. Fíli was an unusually good talker for his age (that wasn’t all Dís’s bias talking, as other females had cooed over her son’s ability to communicate), and he took learning and practicing new words as a fun game. 

As if he understood, Kíli immediately did as suggested. His cheeks puffed out happily around the fabric and he started up a good dollop of drool. Always the sign of a happy baby.

Dís smiled. “That’s a perfect gift, Fíli!” And it was, truly. The entire family liked to compare Kíli, who liked to curl into a ball when he slept like no baby she’d ever seen, to a happy kitten in sunshine. 

Fíli grinned before shifting his feet with unusual shyness. “I helped Ms. Reela a little bit. So.”

“So that,” Balin informed the baby, “makes this toy very special.”

Fíli beamed.

Kíli gurgled.

Balin chuckled.

Thorin looked on with rare peace in his eyes.

“Happy birthday, Kíli,” Fíli said.

Kíli wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck, kitty gripped tight in one tiny fist, and planted a noisy, wet, drool-covered kiss right on Fíli’s nose.

“UGH! Kíli! That’s _gross_!”

Nali wrapped an arm around Dís’s waist and she leaned into his warmth, resting her cheek against his temple. 

And she thought about miracles, and families, and sons, and birthdays, and laughter.


	3. First Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a difference of opinion of whether Kíli's first word should be Papa or Fíli. Dís is far too amused to remain a neutral party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Fíli is 8 and Kíli is 2; I am writing them roughly equivalent to 6 and 14 months. But I can get away with fudging milestone because they're dwarves!

Papa was stealing all the Kíli-time for himself.

And Fíli didn’t like it.

“I wanna play with Kíli,” Fíli pouted to Mama when Papa sneaked away with _his_ little brother after dinner. _Again!_

“Well then,” Mama said as she fussed with the fire, “you should play with him. Go get the new blocks Mr. Balin made.”

“I can’t.” Fíli’s bottom lip poked out and he glared down at his feet. “Papa stoled him again.” 

“Ahhh.” Mama laughed her rolling happy-laugh, which only made Fíli frown harder. This was _serious_. How could he be a great big brother if he never got to be with Kíli?! “He’s doing that a lot, isn’t he?” Mama leaned down and swept Fíli into her arms, noisily smooching his pout away. “Do you know why he’s doing that, my handsome boy?”

 _Because he’s a meanie!_ Fíli thought viciously, but he only said, “I dunno,” sulkily into Mama’s beautiful long beard braid. She wove it in with her hair and it was the prettiest prettiest beard in camp. 

Mama chuckled. “Your papa keeps hiding Kíli because he thinks Kíli is about to start talking.”

“Kíli talks,” Fíli argued. “He’s loud.” And he _was_. He made noises _all_ the time. He pointed and grabbed and shuffled and squeezed and bababaaaaaed like a little sheep. Kíli was very busy. It wasn’t like when he was wee little and all he did was coo and lay around on his back.

“Kíli babbles,” Mama correctly gently. “But Papa thinks that he’s going to say his first word soon, and he’s determined that Kíli’s first word will be ‘Papa’ because you, my love, said ‘Mama’ first, and he has never forgotten nor forgiven.”

Fíli’s eyes flew wide. “Kíli’s gonna learn _words_?!” He wiggled. “Can he say _Fíli_?!”

“Mmm, that one’s pretty hard. Babies usually start with ‘mama’ or ‘papa.’ But he’ll learn your name soon because he loves you so much.” She tapped his nose. “ _And_ because Papa and I say it so much when you’re getting into mischief! So he hears it all the time!”

Fíli didn’t get into _mischief_. He was a _good_ little boy. Always. 

Or at least, most of the time. 

“So babies learn to talk ‘cause you say words a lot?”

Mama nodded. “Usually they learn Papa or Dada and Mama first, then they’ll learn words for things they like or want, like foods or toys or adorable big brothers.”

He twisted in Mama’s arms and looked back toward the tent where Papa was hiding out with _his_ brother. “I wanna teach him to talk! I wanna teach him to say Fíli!”

Mama smiled. “Well then, I think you should do that,” she agreed, and marched right into the tent with Fíli in tow.

“Papa,” Papa was saying as he held Kíli’s hands. “Say _Papa_ , Kíli.”

Kíli wriggled in place, gave a squeal, and toddle-plopped toward the tent’s open flap. Papa heaved a sigh and looked up. “Hello, my darlings,” he greeted Mama and Fíli.

“Hi, Papa,” Fíli wiggled until Mama put him down and walked over to Kíli. His brother beamed and reached for Fíli’s arms, pulling himself up to a standing position. “Mama says Kíli can talk!”

Papa gave Mama a narrow-eyed look. “Does she now?”

“Yes! I’m gonna teach him to talk.” Fíli beamed at Kíli. “I’m gonna teach you to say _lots_ of things! Like…um…biscuit and fish and blankets and bedtime and especially _Fíli_. So when you need me you can yell, ‘Fíli!’ and I’ll come get you.”

Papa shook a finger at Mama. “I know what you’re doing, Dís, daughter of Thrain. You’re not half as sneaky as you think you are. And it won’t work. I’m going to win this time! No matter how adorable your distraction is!”

Mama grinned back at him. “My money,” she said, “is on Fíli.”

Papa pouted.

"In fact, I think I'll talk to Gloin and make my money official." Mama swung out with a laugh, already calling Mr. Gloin's name.

Grown-ups were so _weird._

 

Every time Papa was away with the hunting parties, Fíli would grab his baby brother and drag him (not very far, just where he was allowed and he could see and hear Mama because that was the rule) off for a lesson in only one thing: _saying Fíli_.

“Fee,” he would say with endless patience, “Lee.”

“BA!” Kíli would agree, usually throwing something in the process. 

“ _Fíli_ ,” Fíli said as he carefully stacked blocks for Kíli to destroy.

“Dadadabadabababa,” Kíli agreed as he clung to Fíli’s shoulders in preparation of the final attack.

“Fee,” Fíli said as he knelt on a blanket by the fire and handed Kíli bites of this and that to nibble on. “Say _Fee_ , Kíli.”

“Mmmuuurffle,” Kíli replied around his sweet biscuit. “Mak!”

Papa caught him at it and gave him what Mama called _the stink-eye_. “I see what you’re doing, Fíli,” he said, “and I know you’re only doing it because your Mama encouraged you, which is what we grown-ups call _playing dirty_. But I’m going to win.” Then Papa would _cheat_ and pick Kíli up and carry him somewhere far away where Fíli couldn’t go without getting someone to take him.

“You do realize you’re in competition with an eight-year old,” Mama told Papa.

“It’s a matter of honor,” Papa replied before immediately spinning to Kíli, grinning wide, and shouting, “PA PA!”

“Badaboo,” Kíli replied before stuffing Kitty in his mouth and drooling all over it.

 

Kíli said his first word early one morning as the camp ate a sleepy breakfast.

They were going to set out for their next camp, so everyone was up before the dawn, making breakfast, packing up, and seeing to ponies. The mamas were in charge of last minute packing and feeding hungry dwarflings. Mama handed Fíli a plate to share with Kíli. Game had been a bit scarce, which was one of the reasons they were moving on, so there were _vegetables_ on the plate.

Sigh.

Kíli grabbed a handful of the roasted white blobs and shoved them in his mouth, chewing happily. But Fíli was less enthusiastic.

“I _hate_ turnips!” he whined. 

“But you’ll eat them,” Papa said behind him as he finished buckling into his leather and metal chest piece, “because you need lots of food to be strong for the next few weeks.”

“I ate all the bird!” Fíli protested, because he had! He’d split it in half with Kíli (his half was a _little_ bigger but only because halves are hard and he was bigger than Kíli anyway). He super sneakily pushed more turnips to his brother’s side of the plate. “So I don’t need any nasty old turnips.”

“Toonip!” 

Fíli, Mama, and Papa all whipped their heads around as one. Kíli blinked at them. 

“Toonip,” he said clearly, reached out, and patted Fíli’s cheek.

“No no no! Turnips are _bad_! You’re supposed to say _Fíli_!”

“He’s supposed to say Papa!" Papa protested. "What kind of baby says _turnip_ as his first word?!”

“One with the good sense to finish his breakfast,” Mama said.

Kíli gave a loud cackling giggle. “Toonip!” he cried and launched himself into Fíli’s lap.

This sent the plate flying and the last few pieces of turnip into the dirt where _clearly_ Fíli wouldn’t be expected to eat them, so he didn’t try to hold Kíli back. The baby curled up in his lap and gazed up at him. “Toonip.” 

“No, all the turnips are gone. You spilled them,” Fíli said, happily. That almost made up for not being Kíli’s first word.

Kíli grabbed Fíli’s cheeks and planted a loud kiss on him. “Toonip! Toonip!”

It was a weird first word, but sometimes Kíli was a weird baby (in Fíli’s opinion), so he guessed it made sense. It was okay. He would teach Kíli to say Fíli soon!

 

It wasn’t until they climbed into the wagon and tucked the two boys in together that the entire family realized that Kíli wasn’t saying turnip for turnips.

He was saying turnip for _Fíli_.

Fíli was horrified.

“I’m not a turnip! I’m a dwarf!”

Kíli reached for him sleepily from Papa's arms. “Tooniiiiip.”

Mama laughed so hard she lost hold of the reins. It was okay because Brownie just continued on her way, placidly following the other ponies, wagons, and the long, long line of dwarves on foot. She elbowed Papa merrily. “You know this means Fíli won.”

“It doesn’t count if the baby thinks the boy’s a vegetable.” Papa twisted around and tucked Kíli into Fíli's blanket.

“I’m not a vegetable!”

“Li Toonip.” Yawn.

Fíli sighed a huge little boy sigh and petted Kíli’s hair. “Fine. But if I’m a turnip, you’re a _mushroom_. Ground fungus.”

Kíli drooled happily on his turnip’s shoulder.


	4. First Vows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Longbeards have arrived in the Blue Mountains, where they have a chance to settle long-term. The adults are so busy making plans that the children get a bit antsy - so Mama takes Fíli and his little brother into town for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Fíli is 15, Kíli is 10; comparably 10 and 6ish_

Two months after their arrival in the Blue Mountains, Mama took the boys into the nearest village of Man.

The boys had both been a bit confused and restless since the Longbeards set up their tents at the base of the mountain Uncle Thorin had arranged for them, because all the adults had immediately started having long, boring meetings about how to get supplies and build cabins until the mountain could be made habitable again. Fíli and Kíli, like the other children, had found themselves essentially bustled into corners and under tables while the adults talked. Fíli had figured out that “habitable” meant “safe enough to live in,” but neither boy understood why they couldn’t just move into the mountain and be done with it. All these meetings were so _boring_!

All of this sitting around made for quite a few very bored dwarflings. Which led to some scuffles, and ill-thought-out-games and a few minor injuries before Mama decided it was time to do some shopping with her own little ones in tow.

The weather was fair, so they didn’t have to wear their coats or gloves, just light jackets. “Keep an eye on your brother,” Mama told Fíli as she buckled a squirming Kíli into his boots. “Don’t let go of his hand. Even though the Men here are used to Dwarves, it best we all stay tight and close together.”

“Yes, Mama,” Fíli said, a bit impatiently. He’d been ready for a while now, because he didn’t squirm around and try to escape anything resembling clothing like his baby brother. Plus, he knew to always keep a hand on Kíli. It’s not as if he was _new_ to this big brother thing. He had ten years’ experience now, and he hadn’t lost Kíli _twice_ (just that once). He reached out and snagged his little brother by the waist, holding Kíli on his tip-toes so Mama could finish with his last boot. Kíli elbowed him in betrayal, but he ignored it. Kíli was just a little sprout and he had trouble aiming his elbows.

“All right.” Mama straightened and looked them over. “Your uncle’s going to drop off one of the wagons and-”

Kíli bounced in place, gripping his hands together. “With a _pony_?!”

“No, Kíli,” Fíli said in a serious voice, “we’re going to have you pull the wagon.”

Kíli shoved him. Fíli tickled him back. Mama sighed, grabbed one shoulder each, and hauled them outside. 

Uncle Thorin was already there with Brownie, who was still Kíli’s favorite of the strong cart ponies the caravan had used all of the boys’ lives. Kíli bounded over immediately to tell her hello; he was terribly fond of the ponies, and they were fond of him right back. Mama smiled affectionately but said, “There will be strange horses in the village, Fíli. We’ll need to keep Kíli away from them so he doesn’t get hurt.”

Fíli nodded gravely. “I’ll hold his hand.” 

She smiled at him and ran a hand over the fresh braids she’d put in that morning. “I know you will, sweetheart,” she said. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes – sadness that came and went in little flashes, sadness Fíli’s heart traced back to the day Papa didn’t come home from his turn in the patrols. In the early days, days Kíli didn’t even remember anymore (just like Kíli didn’t really remember Papa, and that made Fíli sad, too, because maybe if _Kíli_ remembered he could help _Fíli_ remember Papa’s big laugh and rumbling voice), Mama was sad more often than not. Almost two years later, it was rare, and it usually flickered away quickly, as it did now. She ran the finger over his cheek and tapped his nose, laughing at his huff of indignation. “We’d better get up and grab a seat before your brother manages to take up the entire wagon.”

Thorin had plucked a giggling Kíli up and deposited him in the wagon-bed. Fíli’s little brother was, indeed, rolling around across the soft hay as if he was trying to create a giant nest for himself. Thorin gave Fíli one of his little smiles and swung him up into the bed as well. Fíli expertly grabbed Kíli by one hyperactive ankle and dragged him over. Kíli snuggled immediately into his side and started chattering about their trip into town and all the food he planned to eat when they got there. 

Once he was satisfied they were settled, Thorin walked around to the front and grabbed Mama’s waist, giving her a bit of a boost as she climbed up. Mama rolled her eyes. She could get into the wagon just fine on her own, but Uncle Thorin sometimes acted like she needed help. She told Fíli it made Thorin happy to help her, so she let him – even if it was a _little_ annoying sometimes. 

Fíli promised himself he would never, ever be annoying to Kíli, and that meant not being overprotective and letting Kíli take care of himself. When he was older, of course. Not now. Now he needed his big brother to watch out for him.

“You’ll be careful,” Uncle Thorin said in a way that wasn’t really a question. 

“I have my boys with me, Thorin,” Mama scolded. “What more guarantee that I’ll be careful do you need?”

Thorin frowned and mumbled a bit, but he backed away with a brief pat to the pony’s flank. Mama gave him a reassuring wave and clucked to Brownie with a masterful flick of the reins. She, like most mamas with smaller children to keep up with, had usually driven a wagon during the wandering and was very good at it.

Then they were off, to the village of Men.

 

Lee was the biggest town Fíli had ever seen. It wasn’t as large as the markets in the Iron Mountains, but the clearing was wide, and there were more than a dozen carts and stalls set up with all kinds of interesting goods for sale. Mama stopped by a large paddock with a Dwarf out front and paid him a few coins to watch the pony and wagon. The dwarf was obviously surprised to see not only a tall, beautiful (the most beautiful!) female, but also Fíli and Kíli, who gave him a polite bow (well, Fíli did and then sort of shoved Kíli into one because Kíli was already distracted by the smell of food; Kíli did not have good manners). Usually females went out dressed as males when they were in the villages of Men, and usually dwarflings had to stay tucked away at home until they had enough of a beard that Men would think they were grown. This was because mamas and sisters and dwarflings were rare, and the papas and brothers and uncles wanted to keep them safe. Sometimes the females thought this was annoying though, because they didn’t want to stay in camp all day.

Mama sometimes wore trousers when she was working but, much to Uncle Thorin’s annoyance ( _Dis_ , he would growl, and she would ignore him), she usually wore skirts. “They’re more comfortable!” she would argue over Uncle Thorin’s muttered objections, “and we didn’t hide in Erebor or Dale! We won’t hide here!”

Uncle Thorin would grumble and fuss but Mama _always_ won.

Of _course_.

Mama carried her big market basket on her right hip. On the left side, her belt had a special loop for Fíli to grab hold of if it got too crowded. He was, of course, very brave for a dwarfling, but he was _little_ and the Men were _very_ big! He didn’t want Mama to worry about him, so he usually held on.

Fíli kept a firm grip on his squirming and noisy little brother with his other hand. He wouldn’t let anything happen to his Kíli, just like he promised Mama.

Mama fought and haggled with every vendor. “Men think all dwarves are incredibly rich,” she told Fíli and Kíli as she pulled a small knife from her boot and cut a fresh apple in half. She sliced out the core and gave half to each brother. “So they try to take advantage of us. We must never overpay, or they’ll think it’s all right to charge all of our people too much.”

“Yes, Mama,” Fíli said dutifully, even though he didn’t really understand everything and was distracted by the mess Kíli always made when he ate. Bits of apple flew from Kíli’s lips and landed on the tooled leather edges of his jacket. Fíli reached out and brushed them off while Kíli tried to squirm away.

“Fíliiii stoooop!”

Kíli could make words last a really long time when he wanted to.

“If you wouldn’t spit all over yourself, I wouldn’t have to clean you up like a babe,” Fíli retorted.

“I’m not a _babe_!” Kili scowled. “I’m ten!” He carefully spread out all his little fingers defiantly.

“Maybe ten is a babe in mushroom years,” his brother said with a smirk.

A low chuckle sounded over their heads. Fíli looked up to find a Man sitting by a cart filled with wooden boxes, decorations, and toys. They were okay, but Fíli loyally noted that they weren’t as nice as dwarf toys. “I haven’t seen young Dwarves out and about for several years,” he said, with a polite bow to Mama. “Your son favors you a great deal.”

Mama smiled and ran a hand over Kíli’s dark hair. “I’m a neater eater,” she answered. The Man laughed. 

“I have some fine toys here. I’m sure you could find something for your son and his little friend.”

Kíli whipped his head around. “Friend?” he asked, confused.

But Fíli wasn’t confused. He looked down and scuffed the toe of his new boots in the sandy grass. Mama reached down and squeezed his shoulder. “We don’t need toys today,” she said, “I’m afraid my sons and I are only in town for necessities.”

The Man’s eyes widened and he looked between the dwarflings. “Brothers?” he asked, and Fíli squirmed. “I’d not have known it. Quite a different look about them.”

 _I look like Papa_! Fíli wanted to yell, because this wasn’t the first time, not the first time at all that someone had said Fíli didn’t look like a proper son of Durin. That he wasn’t really Mama’s son or Uncle Thorin’s nephew. Some of the older dwarflings said lots of mean things because they, like Kíli, didn’t remember how square and handsome and honey-colored Papa was. One time he got in a fight with one of them, even though the other boy was bigger. He never told Mama why they were fighting. Talking about Papa made Mama sad, so he tried not to. Even though sometimes . . . he really wanted to.

He wanted to yell all of this at the Man, but he didn’t, because the Man was very big and he was very small.

 _One day_ , he thought recklessly, _I’m going to be a great warrior and I’ll yell whenever I want to._

“He’s Fíli!” 

Fíli looked up to see his baby brother standing in front of the big Man, the hand not holding Fíli’s perched on his round little hip. He was looking up at the man with a wild smile, all missing teeth and little boy lisp. “Fíli is the _best brother in the whole world_. He’s _big_ and he’s _strong_ and he helps me with my numbers.” Kíli hopped a bit on his toes. “He sings me songs when it’s storming and he holds my hand so I don’t get lost and he helps me wash my hair and he tells me stories and,” he took a deep breath, “he passes me plates and he gives me the big roll but not the big biscuits he likes those and he’s nice and he doesn’t yell very much and he doesn’t tickle me too much, only sometimes. And Mama says he’s as handsome as Papa and he’ll be just as nice!”

He nodded sharply.

“He is the bestest big brother _ever_. And I love him and he loves me and we’ll be together forever and ever.”

And Kíli threw his arms around Fíli and beamed up at him. “Right?!” he demanded.

Fíli slowly wrapped his arms around his baby brother and buried his face in Kíli’s hair. He smelled like sunshine and hay, and a little like Mama and Uncle Thorin. As Kíli snuggled in he thought about Papa, and about Mama, and about _forever and ever_. “Yeah, Kíli,” he answered, and gave his little brother a squeeze, “we’ll be together forever and ever.”


	5. First House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíli gets to show off his brand new house to Uncle Thorin, Mr. Dwalin, and Mr. Balin. Fíli helps a little bit.  
> On a scale of 1 to 10, the level of sugary cuteness in this chapter is defined as _written in the point of view of a "6" year old Kili._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Fíli is 16, Kíli is 11; comparatively 10/11 and 6ish)
> 
> _I wasn't going to post this until tomorrow, but I'm not feeling well and I promised myself something enjoyable if I would get through this stack of horrifying essays, so here we are!_  
>  \-----  
> I can't take credit for Kíli's words here. The fantastic Cassiopeia13 has way more experience with wee children than I do, so every adorable word that comes out of Kíli's mouth is from her. <3  
> \-----

Kíli’s house was one of the very first to be built.

Mama told the builders they would wait for a house, because they were the royal family and it was the right thing to do. But Uncle Thorin and Mr. Dwalin and Mr. Balin and lots of other people said that they should have a house first because Mama had two little boys. So finally she gave in and one of the first houses built in the Blue Mountains was _Kíli’s_ house.

Well, Kíli’s and Fíli’s and Mama’s. 

Fíli told Kíli that dwarves didn’t know a lot about building houses, but they learned fast. And he said they wouldn’t live in the houses forever, just until they could live in the mountain. And some of the adults were fighting about whether they should build the houses at all. And…some other stuff, but by then Kíli had found a frog and it was fat and funny, so he kind of lost track of what Fíli was saying. Then he lost track of Fíli altogether, but Fíli hunted him down and grabbed him by the feet and dragged him home. His hair got very messy and Mama fussed, but he was used to that.

The very first people Mama invited over were Uncle Thorin and Mr. Dwalin, who were very best friends (like Fíli and Kíli!) and Mr. Balin, who was Mama’s very good friend. Mr. Dwalin and Mr. Balin were brothers (like Fíli and Kíli!). Kíli liked Mr. Dwalin and Mr. Balin and he was very excited to show off his house. 

“I’m going to show them _everything_ ,” he told Fíli. “My chair and your chair and our room and Mama’s room and the new blankets and the fireplace and-”

“Well, get ready,” Fíli interrupted, “because they’re here.”

Kíli gave a squeal of delight and tore out of the house and down the path. “Uncle Thorin, Mister Dwalin, Mister Balin!” he cried.

“Kíli, you don’t have to scream quite so loud,” Mama said, but she was smiling, so Kíli didn’t worry about it. He bounded forward and, after weighing his options, slipped his hand firmly in Mr. Dwalin’s. Mr. Dwalin looked kind of surprised. His hand was really big, and he had on his knuckle dusters and those were wicked. When he came for dinner Mama made him take them off and Kíli wasn’t allowed to touch them.

Kíli tugged. “Come on! I’ll show you our _house_! It is our _very best house ever!!_ ”

“It’s our very first house ever, Mushroom,” Fíli said, but Kíli ignored him.

“Ah-”

“Go ahead, Brother,” Mr. Balin said with one of his narrow-eyed smiles. “I don’t think he bites very often.”

“Only on special occasions,” Mama agreed. 

Kíli tugged Mr. Dwalin down the path. Fíli followed not far behind, sliding his hand into Uncle Thorin’s. “This is our path!” he announced proudly. “There’s a swing,” he pointed to a tree near the house, “Uncle made it and you sit on it and it moves.” He didn’t stop for breath. “And this is our house! And this is our path! You have to keep it clean so you don’t trip.”

“Kíli is excited,” Fíli explained to Uncle Thorin, who chuckled agreement. 

Kíli looked up at Mr. Dwalin, swinging his hand a little. Only a little because Mr. Dwalin wasn’t swinging back and he was very very strong. “See the path? I helped clear it.” He puffed his little chest out. 

Mr. Dwalin blinked at him. That was okay. Sometimes it was hard to know what to say when you were doing something really exciting like seeing a new house for the very first time.

“Do you see?” Kíli insisted, and attempted to tug on the immovable hand. 

“You have to say yes, Mr. Dwalin,” Fíli chirped from behind them. “Because it’s a question.”

Of course it was a question! What a silly thing to say! Mr. Dwalin knew what a question was! Mr. Dwalin was big and strong and smart and had been in lots of fights. 

Just to prove Kíli right, Mr. Dwalin said, “Ah. Yes. I. See the path.”

And he looked at it.

Kíli beamed. 

“It’s. Nice?” Mr. Dwalin offered. 

“Yeah!” Kíli took a few skips and Mr. Dwalin stumbled along behind. “And this is our door!” The door was just brown like the rest of the house. “I wanted to draw a picture on it, but Mama said no.” He heaved a sigh. Some of the Men in the village painted their doors, but Mama didn’t want Kíli to. “You have to open it to get inside.” He reached up and caught the handle, tugging down and then up. “Like this! This is how it works, see?” 

He let go and looked up at Mr. Dwalin expectantly.

Mr. Dwalin looked over his shoulder at Uncle Thorin and Fíli. 

“You push down on the handle,” Uncle Thorin said in a funny voice. It was shaking a little bit. Maybe Uncle Thorin was cold? It didn’t seem cold to Kíli. “To open the door.”

“Yeah!” Kíli hopped a bit. “If you push it down, it opens.” He motioned to it, waiting.

It seemed like he was waiting a _really long time_. Maybe Mr. Dwalin didn’t understand yet?

“You have to push down on it,” he said helpfully, as a reminder. 

Fíli cleared his throat. “Kíli wants you to open the door, Mr. Dwalin. So we can go inside.”

Well. _Obviously._

“Oh,” Mr. Dwalin said, and he reached out and opened the door.

Kíli shot in ahead of him. For some reason Mama and Mr. Balin were laughing. Maybe Mr. Balin told a joke (even though he was not very good at jokes, Mama would laugh because they were friends). “This!” he announced in his very loudest and most impressive voice, “is our house! I helped deviate it!” He waved his free arm wildly. “See the candles go here and this is where the coats and boots go and this is our table! We eat here!”

“Kíli, darling,” Mama said, “maybe you should let Mr. Dwalin’s hand go long enough for him to hang up his coat.”

Kíli considered this. After a long moment, he let go long enough for Mr. Dwalin to pull off his coat – and Uncle Thorin and Mr. Balin took theirs off too – and Fíli took them and hung them up with a little help from Mama (Kíli wasn’t tall enough to use any hooks except his and Fíli’s hooks, and even Fíli had to push on tippy tiptoe and then Mama helped), and then he reclaimed Dwalin’s hand. It was always easiest to deal with adults while keeping hold of them. They were less likely to wander off that way. 

“This,” he said importantly, “is _my_ chair. It’s special so I can see over the table. Uncle Thorin made the table. Fíli helped.” He looked up at Mr. Dwalin to make sure he understood how very impressive it was that his big brother helped make _a whole table_ for them to eat at!

Dwalin stared at the table until Fíli nudged him. He gave a tiny jump and said, “Thorin’s better with metal than with wood.” He poked at a spot on the table top. Uncle Thorin frowned at him.

Kíli looked over the table. He thought it was _beautiful_. “But it’s _our_ table. It has chairs. We don’t eat on logs in the house. Mama said so. We eat at chairs, like _my_ chair, and Fíli helped make it.”

“Only a little bit,” Fíli said, looking down shyly at his boots.

Thorin squeezed Fíli’s shoulder. “He worked very hard on the finish,” he said, and kicked Dwalin in the back of the leg. Which wasn’t a very nice thing to do, but they were friends, so they were probably just playing.

“It looks good,” Mr. Dwalin grunted.

Satisfied at Mr. Dwalin’s appreciation of Fíli’s good job, Kíli moved on. “And the deriations I helped with!” He pulled again, through the archway to the little den. He pointed up at the wall. “This knife was Grandfather’s. We put it in a pomogranite place ‘cause he was imported. So people need to see it.” He looked at Mr. Dwalin to make sure he was looking. He was. “See Grandfather’s knife?”

Mr. Dwalin looked confused for some reason. “A…what?”

“A prom-i-nent place,” Fíli said, even though _Kíli just said that_. “That means where everybody can see it.” Oh. Maybe Mr. Dwalin didn’t know big words. But Mr. Balin was his brother! Mr. Balin knew _lots_ of really fun big words. He used them a lot but he would explain what they meant when Kíli didn’t understand. “Because grandfather is important.”

Kíli nodded seriously. “We can’t hang things on it,” he explained, “because it’s imported for our family.”

“Important,” Fíli told Mr. Dwalin even though, once again, Kíli _had just said that_. Fíli did that sometimes. 

“And this is mine and Fíli’s room!” It was the best best best room in the whole house! Mr. Dwalin would know that right away.

“It’s nice,” Mr. Dwalin said much more quickly this time. “A fine room. Though it seems…strange. No stone.” He looked around.

“It’s a _great_ room!” Kíli informed him.

“The bed’s tiny.” Sometimes Mr. Dwalin said silly things.

“That’s ‘cause I’m small. But I’m gonna grow _big_ like Uncle Thorin!” Kíli held his hands waaay up over his head. “I have to keep my bed clean. It’s my job. It’s an imported job, so I get to do it. And I get to deteriate my room.” He beamed, then frowned a little. “Well. Half. It’s Fíli’s room too. So he can do the other half.”

“We don’t have anything to decorate with yet,” Fíli said as he perched on the edge of his bed. 

“We have pillows!” Kíli argued. He pointed at their beds, where they each had their very own pillow with a picture on it. Fíli’s pillow had a turnip on it and Kíli’s pillow had a mushroom on it. They were very soft and they just got them today! “They're to make the house warm. Mama embraided them! Mine is a mushroom.” He tilted his head waaaay back to look at Mr. Dwalin. “Mushrooms grow in the ground.”

“So do turnips,” Mr. Dwalin agreed. 

“We’ll need more things, though,” Fíli said. “Uncle Thorin says we should learn to make things for ourselves.” He glanced at the doorway and leaned forward to whisper, “We’re going to make something for Mama first, though. Uncle Thorin will help us.”

Mr. Dwalin smiled at that. “That’s a fine idea,” he said. “You tell me if there’s anything I can help with.”

Kíli wiggled happily. “Mama’s room is there.” He pointed at the wall. “She has a bed.”

“Good for sleeping,” Mr. Dwalin said.

“Yep. It’s good. It’s a good bed.” Kíli took a deep breath and looked around his very own room. His very own room that he shared with his very best friend in the house where he lived with his mama. “Uncle Thorin says,” Kíli said, tangling his fingers, “Uncle Thorin says that it’s a good house.” 

A good house. 

Mr. Dwalin smiled again, and knelt down on the floor in front of Kíli. His big hands settled on Kíli’s shoulders. “He’s right, young prince,” he said quietly, and very seriously. “It’s a very good house. Thank you for showing it to me.”

Kíli felt his heart thump and thump with pride, and Fíli was grinning at him like he did when Kíli did really good job at something. “And we live here now,” Kíli said proudly. 

“Aye,” Dwalin agreed. “We all have a place to live now. Thanks to our prince.” He shot a look over his shoulder at Uncle Thorin, who looked down and away a bit with a strange look on his face. 

“Yes,” Balin agreed. “A home for all our people.”

Uncle Thorin made a gurgly sound his throat as if he was going to say something. Mama pressed her hand to Uncle Thorin’s back. He didn’t say anything, though. He just gurgled his throat again and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Fíli looked across at Kíli. As soon as their eyes met, Kíli knew exactly what to do. They launched themselves in tandem into their uncle’s strong arms.

And Uncle Thorin’s frown lifted into a startled smile.


	6. First Engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Fíli’s eighteenth birthday, Amad and Uncle Thorin spirit him away for more than three hours. They come back with an announcement about Fíli's future that his little brother isn't so sure about, because it doesn't seem to involve enough, well, Kíli. Until Kíli comes up with a Brilliant Plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fíli is 18 and Kíli is 13 in this chapter, but their maturity level is along the lines of 12 and 8.
> 
>  
> 
> _Fili has started his Khuzdul lessons which means, as predicted, Kili is getting them in secret. The boys have also decided they’re Too Old to call their mother “Mama." Therefore, Dís has become “Amad.”_

On Fíli’s eighteenth birthday, Amad and Uncle Thorin spirited him away for more than three hours.

Kíli was left in the care of Mr. Dwalin, which was kind of unusual. Mr. Dwalin was fun because he mostly handled babysitting by ignoring whatever Kíli got up to as long as he didn’t break anything or climb higher than Mr. Dwalin’s head. He was way more fun than Balin, who always took keeping an eye on Kíli and Fíli as a good excuse to have an extra lesson (well, he was a good storyteller and he gave good hugs, Kíli admitted that, but he did that in _regular_ lessons and he didn’t let Kíli climb on things and he didn’t raid the biscuit box like Mr. Dwalin did or secretly give Kíli bread and jam when no one else was around). Mr. Dwalin didn’t give good hugs because he always had pointy things all over. But that was his only real weakness as a babysitter, and since Kíli was getting _older_ , that was okay. 

So it was a good afternoon.

When Fíli and Amad finally came home, they brought Uncle Thorin too. That was exciting, because Uncle Thorin was _always_ busy now that they were bringing in miners and poking around in the mountain Uncle Thorin said they were going to live in. But it was Fíli’s birthday and Amad was making a special meal with Fíli’s favorite foods. Amad even put a chair next to the counter and let Kíli help cut the potatoes under Uncle Thorin’s watchful eye. He beamed with pride at his brother, but Fíli just smiled back in a distracted way, like he wasn’t really paying attention.

Kíli’s eyes narrowed.

He didn’t like it when Fíli didn’t pay attention.

And his face was way too serious for a birthday celebration. There were going to be _presents_! Kili had even made a special one (with a _little_ help from Uncle Thorin), a box for Fíli to keep his supplies in for learning Khuzdul. Fíli said it was really hard, and grumbled about it, and made Kíli listen while he practiced, so the box would be a good thing to remind him that after lessons he got to come home and hang out with his little brother, which was way more fun than practicing writing.

He abandoned the potatoes to Uncle Thorin’s care, climbed down off his chair, and clambered up on the one next to his brother at their table. He didn’t have to have the lift anymore, which made him immensely pleased. He elbowed Fíli in a friendly way. “Why’re you making that face?”

Fíli looked over at him, his eyebrows going up. Fíli had rich blond fuzz growing in along his jaw now, nearly meeting at the curve of his chin. Kíli couldn’t help being a little jealous, even though Fíli was older. Fíli got to do _everything_ first. It was extremely frustrating. “What face?”

Kíli rolled his eyes and attempted to school his own expression into the one Fíli was wearing. He drew his brows together and frowned, reaching up to tug at the messy braid in front of his right ear like Fíli did when he was thinking extra hard. Well, except Fíli’s braids weren’t so messy, of course. “This face.”

Fíli rolled his eyes. “You look like you need to go to the outhouse.”

“Yeah, well, that’s how _you_ look, and it’s your birthday, so you’re not allowed to look like that!”

“I’m not allowed to need the outhouse on my birthday?” Fíli smirked at him. “That’ll make for a long day.”

Kíli scowled and Fíli laughed. Sometimes, when he didn’t know Kíli could hear him, Mr. Dwalin secretly called Fíli _a bit of a smartass_. Kíli wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with that smirk. “You _know_ what I mean.” Kíli looked over at Amad and Uncle Thorin, who thought they were being secretive about listening in on the boys’ conversation, but really they were being obvious. Adults were like that. He tried to whisper, but he wasn’t very good at it. “Did something bad happen when you were gone?”

Fíli glanced at the adults, too, then back at Kíli. “No, nothing bad.”

Amad turned with a smile and set two mugs in front of them with warm spiced tea. “It’s a good thing, Kíli.”

Fíli wrinkled up his nose like he wasn’t so sure about that, but he nodded anyway when Uncle Thorin looked over his shoulder at them. “Can I tell Kíli, Amad?”

“Of course you can.” Amad leaned over and kissed the top of Fíli’s head. “We don’t keep secrets from Kíli.”

“It’s a secret?!” Kíli demanded. 

“Only for right now,” Uncle Thorin said quietly. “It will be announced to everyone soon enough.”

“But you,” Fíli reached out and flicked Kíli’s small nose, “are very bad at keeping secrets.”

“Am not!”

Fíli snorted. “Are _so._ ”

“I am _not_! I can keep secrets!”

“You are the worst secret keeper in Erid Luin.”

Kíli gasped, betrayed. “I am not. I didn’t tell anybody about how you-!” He clapped his hands over his mouth. “See?” he mumbled against his palms.

Fíli shook his head, but he was laughing. Amad looked curious, but she didn’t press. Instead, she pulled the chair out on the other side of Fíli and sat down. “That seems pretty trustworthy to me,” she said, nudging Fíli’s elbow with her own.

Fíli chewed on his bottom lip, looking at Kíli thoughtfully. Kíli sat up straight and tried to look as grown-up as possible. It seemed to work, because Fíli took a deep breath and said, “Uncle Thorin said he wants to make me his heir,” in a very serious voice.

Kíli blinked at him.

He looked at Amad, who was beaming with pride, and then at Uncle Thorin, who had turned to lean against the counter and had a small smile as well.

“His heir?”

Fíli nodded and started fidgeting with his braid.

Kíli nodded with the sort of careful seriousness this conversation obviously deserved. Then he said, “What’s an heir?”

Uncle Thorin chuckled while Fíli rolled his eyes. “It means that one day, Fíli will be king.”

“Like Grandfather?” Kíli asked. He didn’t remember his grandfather, but he knew that Thrain was king. It was just that Uncle Thorin did all the actual work because Thrain was far away. Somewhere. 

Thorin nodded. “Like your grandfather.”

“I thought you would be king next.”

“Mahal willing, yes,” Thorin agreed, “and then Fíli will be Crown Prince until it’s his time to be King.”

Kíli mulled this over. Balin liked to teach him and Fíli about the kings and consorts. He made Fíli memorize lists of them, but Kíli didn’t have to do that yet. Maybe when he did, he’d have to memorize Fíli’s name too. “Why Fíli?”

Thorin and Amad exchanged a look. “Because he’s the eldest,” Amad answered gently. “You know the kingship passes to the eldest.”

Kíli huffed and crossed his arms. Of _course_ because he was older! Fíli got to do _everything_ because he was older! Kíli didn’t get to do _anything_ because he was the _baby_.

Fíli was watching him nervously. “But you get to be a prince, too!” he blurted. “When you’re older! You’ll be the second prince!”

Amad gave him a look that told Kíli that was supposed to have stayed a secret. Ha. See who was bad at keeping secrets now!

“What does a second prince do?” he demanded.

“He…um..he…he…” 

“You don’t _know_ because they don’t do _anything_!” Kíli accused.

“Kíli!” Amad scolded, but Kíli just poked his lower lip out and tightened his arms across his little chest.

“It’s true! They don’t do anything! I don’t wanna be second prince! I wanna help Fíli!” He wiggled in his chair and ignored the twin _isn’t he adorable_ expressions his mother and uncle were giving him. 

“I’m sure that, um, you could be the prince and . . .” Fíli frowned thoughtfully. “And an advisor, like Mr. Balin.”

Kíli did his best impersonation of a scoffing noise he’d heard Dwalin make. It wasn’t very good yet, but he’d definitely get it right soon. “Advisors have to be boring. I wanna go to all the fun stuff _and_ help you.” His eyes lit up as the solution hit him. It was so _obvious_! “I’ll be your consort!”

Uncle Thorin started coughing for some reason, and Amad said, “Ah, Kíli-”

“No, no!” Kíli’s eyes lit up and he waved his hands around. “Consorts get listed in all the books _and_ they wear a crown _and_ they get to go everywhere _and_ they help out the king a lot! Right? Mr. Balin always talks about how it’s really important for a king to pick the right consort, because the consort has to be good friends with the king and be good for the kingdom! I could do that!”

It was an _excellent_ plan. It covered all his criteria: go to the fun parties and feasts, wear a crown (Uncle Thorin had a crown but Kíli’d only seen him wear it a few times and it was really impressive), and help Fíli. Right. Good!

Fíli’s eyes were a bit wide. “Kíli, the king is _married_ to the Consort. The Consort’s not his brother.”

Kíli waved his hand dismissively, like Mr. Balin did. He nearly clocked himself in the nose, but not quite. “Then I’ll marry you.”

Thorin’s coughing fit returned. Amad rolled her eyes and whacked him on the back. “Kíli, darling, Fíli will grow up and fall in love with someone and marry her. Or him. That person will be his Consort. You’ll be his heir, his Crown Prince, at least until he has a son of his own, or you have one and Fíli claims him like Uncle Thorin did Fíli.”

“Why should Fíli bother falling in love with someone else when he already has me?” Kíli demanded. He planted his fists on the table and leaned forward, looking his brother right in the eye. “You can just fall in love with me, and we’ll get married, and you’ll be king and I’ll be consort.” He said this is his firmest, most Uncle Thorinesque voice. It was decided.

Fíli burst out laughing.

Kíli scowled at him. “I’m serious!”

“I know you are!” Fíli howled. And he fell out of his chair and onto the floor, grabbing his stomach to hold in his giggles. “It’s so _cute_.”

Kíli growled under his breath. He hated, hated, _hated_ being called cute! “I am not!”

“You are! The cutest cute in the history of Erid Luin!”

Kíli launched himself from the chair and landed on top of his brother, whose laugh only hiccupped and kept going. Then he went for ticklish spots, and Fíli’s giggles dissolved into furious squeals. 

By the time Thorin peeled them apart, dinner was ready and the argument forgotten.

(But Kíli still doodled some crown designs on his slate that night. Just to prepare for the obvious and most logical future.)


	7. First Injury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli does not need more stress in his young life, Kíli has a magnificent idea, and then everything goes wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Fíli is 20~13 and Kíli is 15~10 in this chapter)
> 
>  
> 
> _Pssst, if you are tigrislilium, er...this might seem mildly familiar. Enough to recognize, anyway. Don't tell anybody._

The first time Kíli was injured – seriously injured, beyond scrapes, scratches, and bruises which came hand in hand with having a head filled with rocks and no common sense at all – was when he was fifteen.

And it was . . . Fíli’s fault. 

Fíli’s two age-mates who had younger siblings had begun to “outgrow” them in the last several years, but Fíli didn’t feel any particular need to distance himself from Kíli (most of the time). For one thing, Kíli knew a lot more about having fun than Jaret and Era, whose parents were more traditional than Amad and kept them close to home and under an adult’s eye at all times. For another, every adult of their acquaintance insisted “the boy needs a keeper,” and who better to keep him than Fíli? Frankly, he didn’t trust anyone else to do the job properly, and neither did Amad, since she now left Fíli in charge of his brother daily.

No one else was immune to that _face_ outside Fíli and their mother. Even Uncle _Thorin_ fell for it as often as not. 

Which is how Fíli found himself leaning over a parchment, watching as Kíli excitedly explained the rope system he’d sketched on it. 

For someone who had butterflies where his brain should be, Kíli had a fast grasp of engineering concepts. Balin had been teaching both of them about the pulley systems used in the mines as part of their shared lessons in the afternoon. In the mornings, they worked individually, since Fíli was five years ahead (and better at writing, Khuzdul, lineages, and statecraft, pretty much all their basic classwork as far as he could tell; his Mushroom had trouble focusing sometimes). Kíli had been immediately fascinated by the concept . . . though perhaps not for the reasons Balin would prefer. 

“This is going to be fun!” Kíli cackled.

Fíli studied his plan. It was fairly simple, and it wasn’t a pulley at all, but a line that went from their roof to a tree behind the house. The tree was larger than the house, but the slope of the mountain placed it lower down. “A rope from the house to a tree?” he asked skeptically. “That’s going to be fun?” Kíli was usually pretty dependable in the area of fun, if a little crazy, but this definitely seemed like he was losing his touch. 

Kíli grinned at him from behind a veritable curtain of bangs. His hair was especially horrible today. Fíli’s fingers itched to pull it back in a ponytail or _something_. Ponytails weren’t very dwarven, but they were about the only thing that kept his little brother’s hair up and out of the way. He looked ridiculous.

Well, Kíli _was_ pretty ridiculous, so he supposed that was okay. Really. 

“Balin said they used pulleys to move the ore,” Kíli said, “and sometimes the miners move in them too, right? In boxes.”

“Right,” Fíli agreed dutifully, knowing Kíli would sit and stare at him until he received a positive indication that Fíli was paying attention. If he didn’t get it, there would be punching and/or pinching involved. He didn’t bother to remind Kíli the boxes were called carts. There was a high chance Kíli would sulk at being corrected and he wasn’t in the mood for a sulking dwarfling today.

“Well, I read that book he had while you two were blabbering on about Khuzdul spelling,” he made a face that revealed his increasingly strong opinions about Khuzdul grammar and spelling rules; it looked like he’d stepped on a skunk, “and they _also_ used something called a ‘rush line.’” He pointed at his drawing. “You’d string a line – with these spikes or knots or whatever so it doesn’t fall, I’ve got that covered – I’ve got it _covered_ , Fíli,” he glared from under his eyebrows at Fíli’s expression. “Don’t be such a _turnip._ Anyway, you get a piece of leather or a shirt or something and you slide down it and then you’re where you want to be.”

Fíli suspected a number of important details had been left out of this explanation, as was normal when communicating with Kíli. He used the sketch to fill in the blanks. Rope. Understood. Use the incline. Got it. Toss something over it to slide down the rope. Made sense, wouldn't burn your palms off (bad memories). Arrive at your destination while dangling in the air. Not bad. Not bad at all. Should be fun, if you didn't fall off halfway down.

He didn't answer right away, though, because it was always nice to drag these things out a bit. Kíli would start squirming any time now-there he went. And there were the big eyes, and the hopeful expression, and wasn't it a little pitiful that a future prince of the line of Durin, already a miniature-warrior-in-training, Fíli's someday-heir, looked like he needed a fluffy tail to wag? 

Dwarves should not wiggle their bums when they were excited.

He shrugged. “All right.” It didn’t seem much worse than the time they’d decided to build a raft and ended up never getting it to hold together well enough to get into the water, or the time they had successfully built a ladder out of firewood and used it to climb on the roof of the apothecary where they’d been told to _wait and don’t move from this spot._ “We’ll try it. But I go down it first.”

Kíli took a breath and Fíli knew what was coming. “Fiii~iiiilllliiii-”

“I go down first or we’re not doing it.” If he didn’t lay down the rule, Kíli’d throw himself on the line before they’d finished tying it and end up with scraped knees and torn trousers, which Fíli just didn’t need in his life today. He was an expert at sewing patches because of Kíli already.

Kíli huffed and puffed and bothered and, of course, gave in, because there was no way he was pulling this off on his own.

Being the eldest came with a lot of responsibility and permanent babysitting duty, but it had its perks too.

\----

It took two hours to get the rush line up to Fíli’s satisfaction. Kíli was happy with it after about thirty minutes, and ready to grab their makeshift leather slider and go. This was exactly why Fíli couldn’t leave him alone for more than thirty minutes at a time.

It was a hard life. 

They were standing on the roof, double checking the pike-and-tie combo they’d rigged up. Well. Quadruple checking. 

“Fíli, it’s _good_. It’s GOOD just _go_ Amad’s gonna get _home_ and we’ll have to take it _down._ ”

Kíli had just given up talking at this point and communicated only in _whining._

He did have a point, though. Amad wasn’t going to be thrilled when she found a spike in the roof. ..Where had Kíli _gotten_ a spike?

He decided not to ask. Not his job to keep up with everything Kíli owned. He had enough to do as it was.

“Fine! Fine, hand me the belt.” Fíli held out an impatient hand. Kíli scrambled along the rooftop, grabbed the belt – an old one of Fíli’s that hadn’t been repurposed into anything else yet – and slapped it into his hand.

Fíli stepped to the edge of the roof, resolutely ignoring the eruption of butterflies in his stomach (he _refused_ to look nervous in front of a vibrating fifteen-year-old), took the belt in both hands – and suddenly said, “Wait! I’m going to get something!” 

He wiggled off the roof over Kíli’s loud protests and in through the convenient window to their bedroom. He was gathering all the pillows and blankets (why hadn’t he thought of that _before_?) when there was a muffled crash from outside followed by a shout of pain and fear that sent ice down his spine. 

He dropped his armful of pillows and blankets and ran, tangling and falling in them in his haste. He banged his chin hard against the floor, tears springing to his eyes, but he grabbed the end of Kili’s bed and scrambled immediately to his feet.

He didn’t bother with the door, but vaulted out the little bedroom window and sprinted toward the sound of his brother gasping for air. “Kíli? Kíli?!”

“Fi-Fíli!” Then louder. “FÍLI!”

Fíli skidded to a stop at the base of the tree, peering up into the branches to find Kíli hanging upside down by one leg, hair everywhere, his face bright red. A sense of relief washed over him – Kíli was all right, he was just overreacting (that he didn’t generally overreact to the various outcomes of his overactive schemes didn’t register in that wave of relief). “I told you to wait and let me go first!” he scolded, already gripping the lower branches and pulling himself up. “Now you look like a rotten apple!” He felt a laugh bubble up at the ridiculous pose.

Kíli whimpered. It was a sound Fíli’d never heard his brother make before, and the laughter curdled in his chest. “Fí,” Kíli whined, and there were tears falling from his eyes and over his cheeks and forehead. “My leg hurts.”

He sounded like a very little dwarfling. Usually, Kíli was very concerned with sounding grown-up, but now he sounded like the baby who had toddled in Fíli’s wake and reached for him when he was sad or lonely or just sleepy and needed someone to cuddle him. Fíli’s heart clenched and he looked up at Kíli’s leg again.

It was twisted harshly to the side, the knee bent at an impossible angle.

“Kíli,” he breathed. Oh, oh, it was broken. Kíli was hurt. Kíli was hurt, and crying, and reaching for him and he didn’t, he suddenly didn’t know what to _do_. 

He froze.

Kíli’s little hands scrambled at the branches. Snot was running from his nose now, and he was taking deep gulps of air. “Fíli! Help!”

Fíli’s body started moving again. “I’m coming. I’m coming Kíli. I’ll get you down.” He didn’t know how. How could he get Kíli down without hurting him more? Should he climb down and run for help? Mr. Dwalin could get him down, or Amad, or Mr. Oin, the healer. He almost turned, but then he met Kíli’s eyes: wide and pained in his red face, the pupils blown until the brown – Papa’s brown - was barely showing. 

He couldn’t leave Kíli alone.

“I’ll get you down,” he said again, firmly.

He shimmed up the center trunk, swung along the branch beside and a bit below Kíli. His brother reached for him automatically and he caught Kíli’s hands. They were torn and bloody, long welts along the palms. “I’m. I’m going to pull you down, okay? I’m gonna grab your waist and…” he bit his lip. Kíli wasn’t so little anymore. He could carry Kíli on his back, but to take all his weight like this? He wasn’t sure he could do it.

But he had to.

Kíli was in pain.

He leaned forward, grabbed Kíli’s around the chest, which meant twisting his brother back a bit at a clearly uncomfortable angle, and pulled.

Kíli _screamed_.

Fíli let out a shout of his own and nearly dropped him, but he didn’t. He held on, and he tugged again, and Kíli’s leg twisted and slid and Kíli was suddenly hanging free in his arms, dangling above the ground with only Fíli’s hands keeping him from falling. 

Fíli’s back shouted a protest, but he gritted his teeth and ignored the ache that pulled on his shoulders. He tightened his grip under his brother’s armpits as Kíli’s blood-slicked hands grabbed at his shirt.

He tried to smile. “I’ve got you, Kíli.” He promised, forcing the words out on panting breaths because his stomach was pressed hard into the wide branch. “I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall. I’ll keep you safe.”

Kíli sniffled up at him, and his voice was filled with pain, but he said, “I know,” in a voice that made Fíli suddenly fiercely proud and terribly ashamed all at once.

\---

In the end, Fíli didn’t let go. Not until their closest neighbor, a cousin and banker named Gloin, came running in response to Kíli’s scream. He was a strong dwarf, and he convinced Fíli to lower Kíli as far as he could until Gloin could grab him. 

“His leg’s broken or, or something,” Fíli gasped around the tears running down his own cheeks – when had that happened?, “Please, please, please get him to-”

“Aye, lad, I’ll get him to my brother.” Kíli’s face was buried in Gloin’s broad shoulder. “Are you hurt?”

Fíli shook his head. “I’m okay,” he lied, because his shoulder hurt a great deal and his right arm didn’t want to move and his stomach felt like a giant bruise but that didn’t matter when Kíli was crying, because Kíli didn’t cry, not since he was tiny. 

“Fíli,” Kíli whimpered, and Gloin shifted him in his arms. 

“Come down and follow. You know the way?” Fíli nodded and Gloin turned, loping off to the dusty lane toward Oin’s house in the center of the noble quarters. 

\---

Amad was furious. So was Uncle Thorin. They both gave him long lectures on responsibility, and maturity, and not taking foolish risks. 

But they didn’t try to take him away from Kíli’s bedside, where his brother lay with a splinted leg and bandaged palms, under the sleeping draught Oin had given him.

And nothing they said hurt worse than his own heart, clenched and twisted in his chest as he held Kíli’s wrist (too afraid to hold his hand, which Oin said he must have burned and then torn going down the line when the belt didn’t slide properly) and told him over and over how very sorry he was. How he would never, never fail to keep Kíli safe again. 

And finally Uncle Thorin left, and Amad stroked his hair and kissed his forehead and said, “It’s not all your fault, sweet one, you saved him from falling or hitting his head,” but it didn’t make him feel better. Oin noticed the way he was sitting later and put his arm in a sling to relieve his wrenched shoulder, fussing all the while. Uncle Thorin brought soup and bread for dinner, but he didn’t eat it. He curled up in his chair by Kíli’s bed until he fell into a fitful sleep. He dreamed of how hurt his brother would be when he woke up, and how Kíli would know never to trust him again.

\---

When Kíli woke, he squeezed Fíli’s hand with his bandaged one, gave him a watery shadow of his usual grin, and said, “Next time maybe we should put grease on the rope. I just remembered that part.”

And Fíli laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was stolen (and altered, I believe the original contained more thrilled children/horrified adults and less broken legs) from [tigrislilium](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tigrislilium), who was lovely and gave me permission to shamelessly borrow her real-life story when I begged for more kid-stories on “Hoot Twice Like a Barn Owl.” <3


	8. First Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An emergency in the mountain forces Fíli to take on additional responsibilities for an afternoon, and Kíli is determined to be no help at all. 
> 
> This chapter comes with a Gimli.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fíli is 22~15; Kíli is17~11  
> And there is an extra special, 2-year-old guest star.

The first time Fíli really, truly regretted being the eldest was when a fire broke out in one of the cottages, and he ended up responsible not only for an increasingly annoying and troublesome Kíli-

-but also a _baby._

The adults were worried about the fire spreading, and everyone started scrambling to help out in getting the flame under control. Of course this included Amad who, despite not being able to stand as Thorin’s heir, was still left in charge when he was away in the cities of Men or visiting the lords of the Blue Mountains. He was gone this day gathering some Blue Mountain locals who wanted to join them in Thorin’s Halls, and so Amad and Mr. Balin were taking care of everything in the meantime. 

The fire was on the opposite side of the mountain from Fíli’s house, but Amad still lectured him on staying near windows or outside so he could watch the smoke and running for the stream if he so much as heard a crackle or saw a lick of flame. He’d listened solemnly, holding on to Kíli (who for once didn’t argue that he was too old for constantly having his hand held), and nodded in all the right places until she was satisfied that she could leave the boys alone. She’d quickly changed into work leathers, her hair pulled back in a tight braid to keep it out of the way as she oversaw the dwarves fighting the fire. 

Just before she left, Gloin arrived. Fíli had made it a point, since the day Gloin helped Kíli, to be extra nice to their cousin. Gloin was a banker, who had been in many ways without a craft for years. Since their settling in Erid Luin, however, he had become a sort of unofficial royal treasurer, which made him as busy as Amad, Uncle Thorin, Mr. Balin, and Mr. Dwalin. He had a wife to help him out, which he assured Fíli was the secret to being both extremely busy and very happy.

“Find yourself a good mate, lad,” he’d told Fíli one afternoon when Fíli offered to help him carry his supplies from the market. “It’ll be even more important for you than for the rest of us. Choose carefully, and make sure you love her to distraction.”

Gloin then got a far-off look in his eyes. Amad called him “the ultimate romantic,” but she said it with a smile. Fíli listened politely, but didn’t see the appeal of worrying about any of that yet (besides, it was too much fun at present to tease Kíli about how they were engaged; it made Kíli scowl and growl which was hilarious and cute at the same time and had been since the day Balin, who was somewhat immune to Kíli’s adorableness, had explained exactly what a Consort was).

“Ah, Gloin,” Amad said, turning. “You brought Gimli?”

“Aye. . . . are you certain about this, Princess?”

Amad smiled reassuringly, a skill she had that Uncle Thorin absolutely lacked. “Of course. I am a mother, Gloin.”

Gloin winced, but offered a small smile from behind his glorious beard. “Of course, my lady.” And then he stepped forward and leaned down, holding out a blanket-wrapped bundle to Fíli.

Fíli looked to his mother, confused.

“We need you to watch Gimli,” she said with a warm smile, but tension drifted beneath it. They didn’t have time to linger. “You’ll do fine, Fíli. Kíli will help you.”

Fíli reached out awkwardly and Gloin laid the heavy weight of the toddler into his arms. Gimli shifted but didn’t wake, his face squished up in sleep. “I’ll take care of him,” Fíli said firmly. He could handle this. He remembered when Kíli was little. If you played with him, he was happy. Give him a little squashed up food, and everything was good. They wouldn’t be gone too long, anyway.

Gloin and Amad thanked him before setting off at a run, circling the edge of the mountain.

Fíli looked down at Gimli.

He’d been around Gimli a few times. He was two years old, old enough to toddle around a bit. But he’d really only seen him from a distance. He already looked a lot like his father, rather than his darker mother, who was considered one of the great beauties of Erid Luin.

Kíli bounded over (he appeared to have completely given up on walking recently) and pushed a bit on his toes in order to get a better view. “He’s kinda ugly,” Kíli offered.

Fíli rolled his eyes. “No he’s not. He’s just a baby. He looks like all babies.” He shifted the blanket a little to see better. Gimli felt _heavy_ , like a solid boulder of baby. Fíli wasn’t sure Kíli felt this heavy _now._

Kíli scowled darkly.

“What’s that all about?” Fíli asked, hauling the baby into the house. “Close the door.”

Kíli did, though he certainly did so petulantly. He muttered something Fíli didn’t quite catch.

Fíli heaved a sigh. “Stop mumbling. If you’re going to sulk, tell me why.”

Kíli leveled a glare at him. Considering he was usually such a happy kid, his glares were pretty powerful. It was something about the eyebrows. Even though he was five years older, Fíli’s glare didn’t really have the same authority. Maybe it was the color? Fíli supposed it was a good thing Kíli wasn’t moody most of the time. “He has a _beard_ ,” he repeated angrily, his words still garbled with reluctant fury, but not enough that Fíli couldn’t understand him this time.

Fíli shifted the baby to one arm, grabbed a pillow from the sofa near the cold fireplace, and tossed it on the floor. Then he laid Gimli on it. As he did, the blanket fell aside and the baby blinked. Fíli laughed as red fuzz was revealed coming down from Gimli’s wee temples. “He does, doesn’t he?” He tossed a smirk Kíli’s way. “More than _you_ at any rate!”

He regretted the words as soon as he said them.

There were only a handful of dwarflings around Fíli and Kíli’s age, and all of them had fair beards in. Fíli’s scruff covered his entire chin now. Keta, a female between their ages, had hair long enough to brush with a delicate comb. But Kíli had almost nothing – a smattering of dark hairs that only stood out more against his fair complexion. Fíli’s blond hair had been less obvious in the same awkward stage (and looked that way when he was about two years younger; Fíli wasn’t ahead of the others, but he was at least in the middle of the pack). Fíli wasn’t worried about Kíli, because Amad assured them both Thorin and their long-dead Uncle Frerin had grown late beards. Apparently, Kíli was very much Frerin made over, save their papa’s dark eyes. Kíli, however, was in a hurry to look like everyone else. Those words, spoken in jest, were liable to cause an Epic Sulk.

He was right.

Kíli shot him a look of _utter betrayal_ and, to Fíli’s bemusement, launched himself up onto the kitchen counter, where he curled up into an angry ball like a roly-poly bug. He glared broodingly over his knees. Well, that was new.

Sometimes he looked a lot like Thorin, if Thorin was half prince and half kitten.

Fíli sighed again. This was _just_ what he needed. “Kíli-”

But before he could say anything, the bundle of toddler shifted. Gimli sat up, the blanket falling around him in a warm pile. He wore a dark blue baby suit that went from his neck and over his little feet, delicately embroidered across the chest with the image of a raven’s nest. His hair was a riot of frizzy red curls around his round cheeks, and his squat little nose wrinkled. He yawned expansively, looked around-

And promptly began to _wail._

The sound was _piercing_. It jangled all along Fíli’s nerves and rang in his ears. Fíli’s hands clapped over them instinctively even as he hurried forward, trying to coo soothingly, “Hush now, hush now, baby!”

Gimli was having none of it.

He took one look at the gangly, half-grown dwarf, threw his head back, and bellowed:

“NO!”

In a high-pitched voice that Fíli swore shook the rafters.

Then he grabbed the little pillow Fíli had procured for him and threw it with all his might.

It landed about one foot away from him and nowhere near Fíli.

Which only appeared to make him more angry. Red began to creep up from that precocious beard and tears flooded his eyes. 

_“No!_ ” he screamed. _“No no no no no!”_

“Kíli!” Fíli called, “go get some of the old toys!”

But Kíli humphed at him over his knees and refused to budge.

The _brat._

Fíli got down on his hands and knees and crawled up to the toddler. Gimli stopped his wail long enough to take a few deep gulps of air – Fíli very dimly recalled the pattern from Kíli’s few tantrums as a babe – and Fíli leapt on the blessed moment of silence to say, in his very sweetest voice, “Come now, Gimli, it’s just Fíli. Your cousin, Fíli. You know me!” Which was a complete lie, because he wasn’t sure Gimli had bothered to clap eyes on him the few times they’d been in a room together. “I promise you’re safe. I’ll take care of you, and so will Kíli, and soon your Papa will be back to-”

This was a serious tactical error. One that Balin would have chastised him for at gentle length.

“Papa!” Gimli crowed, pushing to his wobbly feet. “PAPA PAPA!” 

In a _normal_ baby, Fíli thought, this would have sounded like whining, or begging, or maybe even a request. In _this_ baby, it sounded like an imperious demand. 

“Ah, no, Gimli, Papa’s not here.”

Oh, Mahal, why had he said the word _again_?! 

“Kíli!” he screamed over the resultant, well, screaming.

“Taking care of babies is _your_ job! Because you’re _older_! You can tell by the _beard_!”

_Oh for the sake of all that is stone and rock and veins of mithril._

Fíli weighed his options, which was not easy to do over the combination of Kíli muttering to himself and Gimli’s wails, which no longer resembled words so much as just _pure horrible noise_. What had Kíli liked? He’d liked...his Kitty (which he still hid under his pillow, but they both pretended Fíli didn’t know about that). He’d liked being sung to. And he’d liked being cuddled.

Fíli decided he’d try singing first. He wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to cuddle Gimli. He didn’t seem like an especially cuddly baby. He seemed more of an “across the room” toddler.

He sat down on the floor and crossed his legs, then scooted himself forward on his bum – Kíli made some comment he was glad he couldn’t hear, sulking little good-for-nothing – and, once he was close to the baby, opened his mouth and sang a song Amad used to sing to him and then to Kíli when they were little.

_“Hush now, little gem, deep in the moun-tain, Mama will si-”_

“MAMA!”

Fíli groaned. Pain began to throb behind his left temple.

“You can’t sing _anyway_ , Fíli,” Kíli offered waspishly. “You sound like a croaking crow!”

“If you’re so smart,” Fíli snapped back, “why don’t you come down here?!”

Kíli grinned at him in a thoroughly, completely, and totally annoying way. “Because it’s more fun to watch.”

Fíli turned around and presented the back of his head to the resident _worthless_ brat. If Kíli was going to be that way, he’d just ignore him. Kíli _hated_ being ignored even more than he detested being teased.

All right. New tactic. 

He grabbed the baby.

Enforced cuddling had generally worked on Kíli, along with tickling. In fact, it _still_ worked on Kíli when he wasn’t being a complete _mushroom_ and hiding on the counter. “Shhh,” he shushed, “shhh.”

Gimli punched him.

Not slapped. Not _bopped_ or _knocked_. Gimli _punched him_ , closed fisted, in the _face._

And then kicked him in the stomach. Thrice. And punched him in the nose, squirming and screaming and fussing and getting redder every second. A blossom of pain unfurled in Fíli’s belly and across his face.

Fíli’s _teeth_ hurt.

He let go.

Gimli made a run for it. If it could be called a run, at a sort of rolling-shuffling-toddle, but it was certainly fast enough to be a run. By the time Fíli had scrambled to his knees, Gimli was in the hallway and barreling into his and Kíli’s bedroom, chattering at the top of his lungs all the while.

Fíli thought fast. Could anything kill him in the bedroom? Fíli had some knives, but they were safe in a drawer Gimli couldn’t possibly reach. It was the top drawer in their cabinet, and even Kíli needed a chair. Plus it stuck, and there was a trick to getting it to open properly. The only things Gimli would be able to reach were rugs and a few pillows Fíli and Kíli had left scattered on the floor from a recent reenactment of the Battle of the Iron Hills. He would have time to grab some kind of food. Babies liked food, right? Everyone liked food. Did they have biscuits? He rushed into the kitchen.

Kíli blinked at him from his napping-snake position, but Fíli paid him no mind beyond sort of shoving him a bit down the counter so he could snatch the biscuit jar and dash into the bedroom.

Gimli was on the floor.

_Surrounded by knives._

Fíli didn’t scream. Well. Maybe a little scream. But just a small, dwarfly, appropriate scream that _anyone_ would utter in this situation, even Mr. Dwalin. Because Gimli looked strangely _happy_ surrounded by incredibly sharp things (was he bleeding?! No, no blood, _thank Mahal_ , Gloin would kill him, he would be a dead dwarf and Thorin would have no heir except _Kíli_ who would sulk behind the throne when he got mad and refuse to do any work at all), but he was _still screaming_ nonsense syllables as he banged the (blessedly wooden) practice knife on top of several metal ones.

Actually, Fíli thought maybe this particular scream was a screech of joy at the resulting racket, but he couldn’t be sure. It sounded about the same. 

He lunged forward in a panic and grabbed Gimli under the armpits, swinging him up into his arms. The laugh-scream definitely transformed into a furious howl, and Gimli, now armed, started whacking Fíli in the head and shoulders with the small wooden dagger. 

_Outside_ , he decided. He’d take the horrible creature – that is, adorable baby cousin – outside. Surely _something_ would catch his attention, and there was nothing pointy there. Mr. Dwalin would have Fíli’s hide if he ever found a weapon in their little yard.

If Kíli thought Fíli didn’t hear those evil _giggles_ when Fíli threw the door open, he was wrong.

Fíli marched outside. “Look, Gimli!” he said, in what he hoped was an appropriately happy and encouraging voice, “outside! The sun! The trees! The grass! Nothing sharp at all!”

Gimli screeched, “NO NO NO NO NO!” and threw in a “PAPA!” for extra emphasis.

Fíli dumped him (carefully) in the grass.

Gimli hiccupped when his little butt hit the prickly lawn, and for one blessed second, there was silence. Gimli gazed around with dark eyes, taking in everything (and keeping a death grip on the practice sword). He gazed up at the sky. He stared at the tree with the old swing Uncle Thorin had put up for Fíli and Kíli. He looked down and grabbed a tiny handful of grass, tugging hard.

Fíli held his breath, afraid to let out a sigh of relief in case Gimli hated _those_ too.

Gimli gave a mighty heave, ripped out the grass – roots, dirt, and all – overcompensated, rolled backwards, and stuffed the dirt-covered greenery in his mouth in one strangely graceful move.

Apparently grass didn’t taste good. Because he spit it out with a wild fit of coughing.

And then. Of _course_. He started screaming.

Fíli buried both hands in his hair and tugged.

“Amad doesn’t like it when you do that.”

Fíli looked up. Kíli (the brat brat brat brat _brat_ ) was perched on his favorite branch in their swinging tree. Fíli had been so taken with the baby that he hadn’t even noticed his brother shadowing him out the door. Fíli opened his mouth to say something appropriately scathing, then snapped it shut. 

_Ignoring you_ , he thought viciously at his brother. _I am ignoring you._

He knelt and started pulling grass from the baby’s mouth. He replaced it with a biscuit. 

Obviously, as Fíli’s precious stubble learned, Gimli did not like raisins.

Nor did he like being carried in the direction of the swing, or being rocked, or listening to a song that didn’t mention Mama, or having his diaper checked, or funny faces or peek-a-boo or tickles. Fíli knew this, because Fíli _tried them all_ and Gimli just alternated among screaming, yelling, gasping for air, and screaming some more. His face was so red that he looked like a fat little tomato floating in a blue river of _racket_.

Fíli pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. 

He wouldn’t mind throwing a tantrum right now.

He really, really wouldn’t.

But he was twenty-two years old, and it just wasn’t _done._ For Mahal’s sake, in eight years he’d be considered battle ready. He couldn’t go into battle throwing tantrums.

He couldn’t even think of anything else to do! They didn’t have baby toys, besides Kitty, and no matter _how_ annoying Kíli was being, he would never imagine doing anything that could hurt the toy Fíli had given him for his first birthday. Kitty’d had a hard life as it was, spending her young years being chewed on and her old age stuffed under a pillow. He could try – he could get the blanket from the house? Maybe it would calm-

The screaming abruptly stopped.

Fíli’s eyes snapped open.

 _Don’t be dead don’t be dead don’t be dead_ – because what _else_ could stop that horrible noise?!

Gimli hiccupped. 

“What?” Kíli asked from his position sitting in the grass.

With a lapful of hiccupping – no –

With a lapful of _cooing_ baby.

Fíli goggled.

Kíli shifted uncomfortably. Gimli fisted both those evil little hands in Kíli’s shirt and gazed up at him with something Fíli could only describe as _adoration_. “You . . . looked like you could use a little help. So.” He patted Gimli’s tangled fluff of crimson curls.

“You-”

“He’s not so bad. I guess he just wanted cuddles. Did you try that?”

“I-”

“He’s kinda cute, really.” Kíli bopped Gimli on the nose. 

Gimli’s eyes crossed adorably. He gave a sort of low chortle.

“You-”

Kíli laughed, kissed Gimli on the nose, and carted him off to the swing. He turned Gimli to face him, tucking his hands behind the baby’s bum, and started gently rocking. 

Gimli gave a gentle, pleased coo and rested his cheek against Kíli’s sleight shoulder.

At which point he _fell peacefully to sleep_.

Fíli let out a tiny, utterly understandable, completely warrior-appropriate scream.

And then Fíli climbed the tree. And he refused to come down until Gloin’s bushy beard appeared over the horizon.


	9. First Pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíli is a brooding teenager, Kíli-style, Fíli is an inadvertent turnip, and there is a small, adorable animal in need of saving.
> 
> (Kíli 21~14, Fíli 26~17)

Kíli found it while he was out hunting.

He wasn’t very _far_ out; at twenty-one Amad didn’t trust him very far from home without Fíli on his heels. Like he was a _dwarfling_ and not less than a decade from being battle-ready. He was (fairly) certain Fíli had been allowed out at his age to practice his throwing axes. It had been _months_ since he’d shot Dwalin in the chest with that blunted practice arrow, and longer than that since he’d managed to injure himself chopping vegetables (he wouldn’t hold the knife like that again, all right?). You’d think they’d let it _go_.

But no.

He basically had to be within shouting distance of _Fíli,_ the world’s most annoyingly perfect big brother.

Huff.

Ah, well. He had a good-sized rabbit over his shoulder that would do for dinner and the project he and Fíli were working on for their mother, the weather was just as he liked it (with a bite of cold in the air), and even if he had to be within earshot of the house, Fíli had excellent hearing, so he could wander a fair distance. He could certainly be having a worse day. He could, for example, be babysitting Gimli again. Gimli was a terror for all other babysitters, so somehow, against his will, Kíli had become the preferred Gimli-watcher. Though occasionally Gloin slipped a coin or two in his hand (where Amad couldn’t see, because she’d tell them both that taking care of family was a privilege and not a job), which made Gimli’s grouchy clinging a lot more tolerable (that and the fact that, okay, Gimli _was_ kind of cute, and it _was_ kind of wonderful that he behaved for Kíli and not for the wonderful Fíli).

He was just about to step out of the forest and into the clearing around his house when he heard a strange rustling to his left, followed by a hoarse screech that made every hair on his neck stand up. He dropped defensively, an arrow notching almost without thought. He had only been training with the bow for two years, but he’d been dedicated from the first day. It was his mother’s weapon of choice, and had been his father’s, and the first time he’d held one it had fit perfectly in his palm.

That Fíli wasn’t very good with the bow was a definite plus.

Stupid Fíli.

With his stupid sword and his stupid beard and his stupid handwriting and his stupid smirk.

Another loud screech reminded Kíli that he was crouched and pointing a deadly weapon at a bush. He shook his head and leaned forward, craning his head to see through the leaves. It was . . . a bird. A sort of fat and fluffy one.

An owl?

It _was_ an owl, a tiny one shorter than his forearm, tangled in the branches and screeching in terror. It was a pitiful sight, the wide eyes and flapping wings. Kíli’s heart, always tender, melted immediately. 

Moving very slowly, he lay down his bow and arrow, shifted the rabbit across his back, and tugged carefully to make sure his leather gloves were firmly in place. “Shush shush,” he cooed soothingly, like he did for Gimli when Fíli admitted defeat and shoved the toddler in Kíli’s lap (it usually took about thirty minutes; longer if Fíli was feeling especially stubborn), “I’m not going to hurt you, I’m just going to help-”

It snapped at him, and that beak did _not_ look nice. 

“I _promise_ I’m not hurting you. I’m going to get you out of that mean old bush.” Kíli kept his voice quiet (not an easy task for him), and pressed down on his belly before sliding his hands slowly under the leaves. “You’ll feel much better out of there, little owl.” 

With the infinite gentleness he used during his lessons in fletching, Kíli wrapped his hands around the little body and slowly inched it toward him. The owl gasped and screeched, huge dark eyes rolling as it tried (and succeeded, _ow_ , his gloves weren’t long enough down his arms!) to scratch him with wicked talons. Its heart beat so fast against his thumbs that he almost couldn’t separate one frantic thump from the next.

By the time the pair of them emerged, blood was trickling down both his forearms and the owl had given up on screeching, choosing instead to just stare at him in slack-jawed terror. Not exactly the usual reaction Kíli got, which tended (to his dismay) more to the side of cooing and comments on his adorable cheeks and “great big eyes, oh Dis he’s _lovely_.” He didn’t quite know what to do with it. 

“Okay,” he said softly. “I’m going to set you down on this nice, clear piece of dirt here,” he suited actions to words, “and then you can get up and fly away. All right?” Slowly, he lifted his hands away.

The owl flapped its wings wildly and promptly fell over.

“Whoops. Ah. I’ll..help you back on your…feet? Claws? If you promise not to bite me.” Although no answer was forthcoming, Kíli tucked his fingers under the wildly jerking wings and straightened the little thing up. It was an adorable creature, all reddish-goldish-brown and somehow managing to look fluffy even though it had feathers instead of fur. But there was something very wrong with the left wing. While the right flapped hard enough to make Kíli wince, the right one crooked at an odd and painful-looking angle. Kíli frowned.

“You’re hurt, aren’t you?” he asked. “You can’t fly away like that.” He bit his lip, brows drawing together into a dark scowl, even as his voice stayed low and soothing, his very best Gimli-doesn’t-want-to-take-his-nap voice. “You’ll make it worse if you keep that up. We need to get you some help, little owl.”

The owl slowly stopped struggling, though its heart kept pounding away. Moving very carefully and slowly – more so than most people would believe the hyperactive young prince capable of – he gathered in the wings with his hands and gently lifted the little bird. Then he sort of roll-hopped to his feet. 

And rushed with light steps to find Fíli.

(Because Fíli was annoying and smirked too much and had obnoxiously nice handwriting, but he was still Kíli’s big brother and could be counted on to assist in difficult situations.)

\----

Fíli was so horrified by the scratches on Kíli’s arms that it took Kíli a minute or three to get him to _pay attention to the owl._

“Oh. Right.” Kíli’s brother tilted his head to the side. Fast approaching thirty years and the first milestone of _battle ready_ , Kíli’s brother was thin still but handsome, his natural skill with the sword (Dwalin was already talking about double blades) and rare honey-gold hair catching a lot of attention. Kíli, who didn’t remember their father as more than a flash here and there, tended to imagine Nali as Fíli-plus-some-muscle-and-dark-eyes, because everyone always talked about how much Fíli favored him. The fact that Fíli could sometimes act like such a fussy mama (like right _now_ they were just _scratches_ stop _overreacting_ ) only reinforced that mental image. “I suppose the kindest thing to do would be to kill it. I don’t know a lot of uses for owl feathers but-”

Kíli was horrified. He tucked the little owl, who seemed to have tired out and was practically letting out tiny yawns, protectively against his chest. “You’re not killing it! I want it _healed_!”

“It’s a wild bird, Kíli.”

“That doesn’t mean it-he-she-whatever doesn’t deserve a chance at life!” Perhaps his tone was a _little_ dramatic, but this was a serious situation involving a badly injured, fluffy little owl who was depending on Kíli for its _life._

Fíli gave Kíli a look that clearly brought to mind a number of birds who had graced their dinner table, including the pheasant Kíli had proudly brought home just a few days ago. Kíli returned a glower that told him not to bring it up and to focus only on the here and now.

The nice thing about having a brother underfoot so often was they didn’t have to bother with words a lot of the time. It made arguments go a good bit faster.

Fíli sighed and scratched at his beard (stupid _beard_ looking all short but _fluffy_ ) as he thought the problem over.

“I think . . . Amad said once that Mr. Oin worked with the ravens in Erebor. Maybe he’ll know what to do.” 

Kíli perked up. He’d known Fíli would come through, when he decided to stop being a turnip and start acting like a proper brother. He often had to work Fíli through the root vegetable stage to the best friend stage. It was a particular skill. “Can you go get him? I think it’d be better if I stay here.” He looked fondly down at his patient, who stared wildly back up at him. “He’s a little nervous.”

Fíli’s mouth curved into a wry smile, and he rolled his eyes, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, he immediately took off, setting out at a jog to find their crusty healer and cousin. 

\---

So it turned out the owl was a girl.

And her wing was broken.

And thankfully, Oin really had worked with the ravens in Erebor. “I’d intended to always work with them,” he said, “I only patched dwarves up when there wasn’t another healer available. Never worked with an owl before, though.” He’d smiled fondly down at the bird, who had soothed in his rough hands. “She’s calmer than I’d expect for a wild thing.”

“Will she need a lot of care?” Fíli asked, with a reluctance Kíli didn’t approve of. 

“I’ll take care of her so you can just stop scowling like that,” he huffed. “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

Oin and Fíli exchanged a look. Sometimes, oh _sometimes_ , Fíli was such an _adult_ , acting all _it’s Kíli again being Kíli_ like he wasn’t knee-deep in the mess half the time. Kíli didn’t need a _keeper_ , much less one only five years older. 

Fíli. Was such. A. _Turnip_. When he was playing grown-up.

Ugh.

“I will take _care_ of her,” Kíli insisted. “I saved her, I carried her around, I got help! I’m going to take care of her!” He hissed the words instead of yelling them, not wanting to startle the owl. Then he turned a smile on the fluffy little thing and said, quietly, “I’ll take care of you until you’re well enough to take care of yourself. I promise.”

He knew Fíli was looking a him, but he didn’t say anything. People were always trying to take care of Kíli. Uncle Thorin, their mother, even Mr. Balin and Mr. Gloin, and worst of all – _Fíli._ But he wasn’t a little dwarfling anymore. He trained every day. He helped cook dinner. He hunted and helped make his own clothes and cured leather. He could be trusted.

It was about time someone trusted him.

“. . . I’ll help you. If you need anything.”

Kíli felt torn between appreciation at the offer and annoyance at the implication that he would need help. He huffed. His “thanks,” was a bit grudging, but he gave it anyway.

Oin spent over an hour giving orders, insisting they write things down, preparing a sort of nest of older clothes (Amad wouldn’t be pleased, everything was reusable until it was falling apart), and going over everything Kíli would need to do daily at least a dozen times.

Through it all, Kíli stayed cool, calm, and collected, taking down notes as ordered and never losing his patience (at least on the outside, on the inside he might have been screaming, just a little; hey, learning to _fake_ patience was an important skill that Uncle Thorin certainly hadn’t gotten around to learning). When Oin finally left (after the third repetition of how to feed her and how to keep an eye on her wing and “come and get me immediately if the splint comes off” and “don’t let her get too excited”), Kíli settled down next to her in her lumpy nest (she was nodding off, it was very cute indeed, making her look even more fat and fluffy than usual), grabbed another sheet of paper, and started sketching out a rough idea for a sort of owl-house for her to have some privacy if she needed it. 

Everyone needed privacy from time to time.

Everyone.

 _Even little brothers,_ in case Fíli felt like eavesdropping on his private thoughts at the moment.

(Thank the Valar he couldn’t actually do that.)

\-----

Kíli was as good as his word, if not better.

His owl wasn’t completely nocturnal, though she napped a good bit of the day away and had to be fed once during the night. To that end he learned to hunt rabbits more effectively, to properly prepare them (Amad said he should sell the furs, but he gave most of them to Fíli for the coat and boots they were having made for her), and how to properly feed raw meat to a wild animal with a very sharp beak (he earned a bandage on every finger in only two days). He woke up in the middle of the night, padding out of the room he shared with Fíli (a little room with two largish beds now, and very little space for anything else) to feed her in the little hutch he’d built. He learned how to speak in a sweet, soothing tone, and gradually reached a point where she would tilt her little head toward his hand and ask for scratches. 

He’d never had to work so slowly and carefully for something before.

He liked the way it felt, that first time she nibbled affectionately on his finger and climbed on his wrist (now covered with an old leather bracer of their mother’s) to eat calmly from his other hand.

“You’re doing really well with her,” Fíli said a week later, as he checked the cuts on Kíli’s wrists (he insisted and fussed even though they were _fine_ , they hadn’t gotten infected at all and Kíli kept them clean). He smiled at Kíli, a thoughtful little thing that made his eyes crinkle and all of Kíli’s frustration at being babied fly out the window. 

Kíli sat straighter, feeling a little surge of pride. “I told you I would.”

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you at first.” Fíli carefully re-wrapped the left wrist, where the cuts had been deeper. “I should have. Sometimes I forget you’re not five anymore and following me around the camp, demanding attention.” He stood abruptly, apparently missing Kíli’s wide-eyed shock at this not-at-all-turnipy admission. “I’m hungry. You want something?”

“Sure.” Fíli shot him another smile and headed for the kitchen. “Ah. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Kíli considered the conversation for a moment. Fíli wasn’t much of one for admitting he was wrong about anything. Part of that was because he was rarely wrong (turnip, turnip, turnip) and part of it was, Kíli suspected, some kind of secret training from Thorin that Kíli wasn’t privy too. Fíli was usually a lot of fun, if a bit overprotective, but there were times when he would get very quiet and very serious, and it was usually after talks with their uncle. 

Uncle Thorin really needed to learn how to relax.

A soft hoot caught his attention and he turned to smile at his owl, who was poking her head out of the hutch. Kíli had been pleasantly surprised when Amad agreed to pushing the table against the wall and putting the hutch at the end. It cut off a good bit of the table (“A good excuse not to have people over,” Amad had said with a sparkle in her eyes), but it gave the owl a safe surface to walk out on. 

“Hey there,” he said, “you hungry?” He reached into his pocket and drew out a small oilskin bag with some bits and pieces of entrails in it. He worried if he left she’d try to hop off the table, so he always kept a little at hand. He put a few bits in his palm and held it out.

The owl tilted her head so far to the right that it was sideways. He grinned. She was so _cute_. Oin said she would stay small. In fact, he identified her as a Little Owl, which made Kíli chuckle that he’d been calling her that all along. “Come on, little girl,” he said. “Oin says it’s good for you to walk around and watch your balance.”

She narrowed her yellow eyes at him and he couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Really, I promise. No lies. I’ll always be honest with you.” He straightened his arm out a bit more. “You know, what you really need is a name.” 

His owl fluffed her good wing a bit, and then stepped forward. As she did, her little hip cocked left, then right. Her eyes narrowed and she took a few more steps.

The way she was moving…

It was almost….

“Fíli!” Kíli yelped.

Fíli appeared in the doorway, a worn kitchen knife in one hand and alarm on his face. “What happened?! Are you all right?!”

(For Mahal’s sake, what was going to happen to him sitting at the _table_ , what was that about Fíli being less of a vegetable for five minutes?!) “Nothing! Nothing, just look, Fíli, watch her walk!”

Fíli rolled his eyes (much more dramatically than necessary) and leaned in the doorway. “Why am I staring at your owl walking?”

“Just shut it for a second and watch.” Kíli refocused his attention of the owl. “Come on, sweetie, don’t let that big mean brother startle you. Come get your snack.”

The owl, who had momentarily stopped moving and fluffed up impressively, gradually smoothed down, eyed the treat, and started forward again. On each step she lifted a little claw, twisted her little head, and shook her little butt. “See?!” he demanded as she leaned over and snatched up a bite.

“See _what_?”

“The way she _walks._ She has _swagger_ , Fíli. She shakes her bum and practically smirks.” Kíli grinned so wide his cheeks ached. “She’s a little _you_.”

“I do not _swagge_ r!”

That statement was just so ridiculous it wasn’t even worth arguing about. Fíli had the most confident, hip-based, look-at-my-arse walk of anyone Kíli knew, and he wasn’t even close to being an adult yet. “Oh, no, brother. She is definitely you. You as an owl. Bossy. Swagger. Big eyes. Thinks she owns the whole table.” Kíli ignored Fíli’s narrowing gaze. “Yes. Yes. A Fíli-Owl, that’s what you are.”

“You are not naming that thing after me!”

“Yes I am! She likes it. Don’t you, Fíli-Owl?” Kíli lifted his free hand she tilted her head into it, making a high little trilling coo of approval. “See, she even likes having her head scratched, just like you.” His grin was wicked. Fíli’s weakness for having his head scratched was meant to be-

“That is a _secret_ you moss covered _mushroom_!”

“Nobody else hee~eere,” Kíli sang in his most obnoxious voice. Fíli-Owl hopped onto his wrist and nipped at his hand, clearly irritated that anyone else was getting attention. And wasn’t _that_ just Fíli all over?! 

“Fíli-Owl is a stupid name and it’s too long.”

Kíli considered this. “I could shorten it. Like..what did the Men call them? Nick-names?” He obediently scratched. She liked the very top of her head scratched and the back of her neck. “I’ll call her…”

“Something that has nothing to do with my name.”

“Fowl.”

Fíli stared at him. “Foul? As in…as in disgusting?”

“No, you idiot. As in _Fíli Owl_. F-owl.”

Fíli looked spectacularly, incredibly, overwhelmingly Unimpressed. “That name. Is even more stupid. Than Fíli-Owl. You do know what a fowl _is_ don’t you? Or were you sleeping through that lesson?”

Kíli lifted his chin, tossed his head, and said, “I do not need your help naming Fowl, Brother.” He paused a moment. “And I only fell asleep that once. …Or twice. Not more than three times.”

Fíli snorted. “Fine. Give your owl a stupid name.”

Kíli glared at him.

Fíli glared back.

And Fowl head-butted Kíli in the nose.

Yes.

She was _definitely_ a Fíli.

\------

When Fowl was all healed, and Kíli told her to go on her way into the forest (he absolutely did _not_ get teary eyed, thank you, no matter what Fíli and Amad said), and she _steadfastly refused to go_ and instead insisted on _moving in outside his window_ and _following him around_ and _flying at dwarves who got on his nerves_ , she proved that her name was even more appropriate than he could have imagined.

Just what he needed.

Two Fílis.

Ah well.

At least she was cute.

(And by “at least she was cute” he meant “I absolutely adore her” and “she’s my favorite hunting partner” and “I could do without the mouse heads but clearly it means love, so I trade her rabbit entrails.”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fowl, who will also be in the final chapter of _Firsts_ , is a Little Owl, most famously photographed by [British photographer Austin Thomas.](http://portfolio.austin-thomas.co.uk/birds) Here is [a gallery](http://www.discoverwildlife.com/gallery/little-owl-photo-gallery-austin-thomas) of some of his Little Owl shots.
> 
> And here is [ the most swaggarific shot of all.](http://500px.com/photo/12443309/walking-with-attitude-by-austin-thomas)
> 
> (And from comments, [this lovely creature](http://animal-diversity.tumblr.com/post/59900883148/x) is not a Little Owl, but I happily accept all headcanons that Kili gives Fowl nose snuggles and she accepts them with sleepy approval!)
> 
> Special thanks in this chapter go, once again, to Cassiopeia13, who named Fowl and revealed that she shows her love for Kili though the presentation of mouse heads.


	10. First Advantage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíli comes to an Incredible Realization that could change his life forever. Or. Maybe not. As the case may be.
> 
> The boys are growing up, and so this is the last story of _Firsts_ , but not the last story for these two dorks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During a Livestream, the lovely hvit-ravn/Pabu asked for prompts and I suggested “the day the boys realized Kíli was taller than Fíli.” She whipped up [this bit of fantasticness](http://hvit-ravn.tumblr.com/post/84068770473/emm-K%C3%ADli-i-thought-you-were-smaller) **and** gave me permission to write a fic based on it. *copious blushing!!*
> 
> Fili is 31~20ish, and Kíli 26~17ish

The day Kíli realized he was taller than Fíli was a red-letter day. If he had a journal like that new student of Balin’s, he would have written all about it.

_Taller than Fíli. Gonna make him pay for a lifetime of headlocks._

In fact, he might have to go _buy_ a journal, just to record the moment. Especially since he was pretty sure it was going to last.

Fíli was 34, after all, and hadn’t grown a bit in the last couple of years. The line of Durin was generally known for height, but Fíli had never been among the largest of their age-mates. Dwarves told him that he would hit a “growth spurt” soon, if he’d just be patient – but, much to his supposedly-secret chagrin, the spurt had never come. He still stood a couple of inches shorter than their mother as, Kíli had been told, their father had.

But it wasn’t so much the fact that Fíli wasn’t especially tall that was important. There were plenty of shortish dwarves around Erid Luin. 

What was important was that _Kíli was clearly taller._

\----  
He discovered this by accident. Their mother was away for a few days, travelling with Thorin, so they were left in charge of each other (that’s how it was always said, _each other_ , but Kíli wasn’t an idiot; he saw the looks his mother and brother exchanged that clearly said _you’re in charge of Kíli, make sure he doesn’t break anything this time_ ; subtle they were not). Balin poked his head in a couple of times a day to make sure they hadn’t burned the house down (which they _would not do_ , they _lived here_ , the adults in their lives needed to _relax_ ), but beyond that they were on their own. 

They were making dinner when it happened. Such an innocent, innocuous thing to be doing when one has an earth-shattering revelation. Fíli was messing around with the soup they were making (they were both too impatient for anything that took more attention than soup to make) when he tasted it and said, “It needs…something.” He waves a hand at the small containers of herbs their mother kept hanging in the little kitchen’s window. “Grab the stool and…maybe…sage?”

Fíli obviously had no idea what the soup needed, but then, neither did Kíli. They were not particularly adept cooks. They didn’t usually discuss herbs because they figured if the food didn’t kill them, it was fine. Amad sometimes experienced moments of dramatic despair over this fact. She blamed their lack of cooking prowess on hunting excursions with their uncle. They blamed it on being raised by a mother who wasn’t a very good cook, either. (They did not say the last to Amad’s face because, despite rumors, they did not, in fact, have rocks instead of brains in their heads. It was no fault of hers that learning fine cooking skills hadn’t been a major concern for a princess of Erebor or a princess on the road.)

Their cooking session was overseen by Fowl, who was not under any circumstances allowed in the house. This meant, of course, that she was in the house whenever Kíli was. At the moment of Kíli’s epiphany, she was perched on Kíli’s left shoulder, overseeing the cooking with the eye of a wise elder cousin. When Kíli had the nerve to raise that arm in search of sage, she nipped his ear in punishment before flapping over to the back of one of the kitchen chairs and presenting him with her feathery hindquarters in protest.

Kíli, well versed in ignoring Fowl’s more dramatic tendencies after four years of her company, pulled a knife from his belt and had the sage in his hand before the full import of what his brother said hit him. 

_Grab the stool._

He glanced at Fíli, startled.

“What?” Fíli asked as he held out an impatient hand. He curled his fingers. “Hand it over.”

Kíli did hand the sage over before looking carefully up at the herbs. Mother hung them from the rafter, high enough that only she could get them without dragging over the stool. It never bothered him or Fíli, since they figured this was an excellent excuse not to help with the cooking. But now-

Had she moved them lower?

He pushed up on his toes and tested.

No. He had to stretch to reach the dangling greenery. But he _could_ reach it.

He lowered himself to the flats of his feet and looked across at Fíli.

Yes.

YES!

Just. Just _slightly. No, a little more than slightly,_ he definitely, beyond a shadow of a doubt – his gaze was more in line with Fíli’s forehead than his eyes.

He. Was taller. Than Fíli.

And he _had not noticed._

Really, what kind of brother was he, to have ignored such a clear and wonderful advantage for so long?! 

He kept cool. He kept calm. He did _not_ start grinning or giggling. He’d just hide this little tidbit of information until it was an appropriate time to bring it up.

(Well, he did tell Fowl that evening, hopping out his window and waiting until she perched on his shoulder to sneak into the forest and whisper the news to her. She, of course, could always be trusted to keep appropriate secrets.)

\-----

Fíli always strutted around the training ground with completely inappropriate confidence. (Okay, maybe not completely inappropriate, since he _was_ plenty strong and picked up swordplay fairly easily while Dwalin openly despaired of Kíli’s future prospects – stop _dancing,_ Kíli, what are you even _doing_?! – but there was no need to look like you owned the whole training ground when there were full-grown dwarves around who could take your head off in three seconds flat). 

Kíli, on the other hand, was more of a skulker, thanks to the fact that he couldn’t always get all his limbs going in the right direction (he'd been able to several years earlier, but now they just didn't want to behave). When Fíli was feeling like a loving and supportive big brother, he assured Kíli that this would pass, that Kíli just needed to slow down a bit and focus, that Fíli had gone through a similar time period in his youth (he said this like he was fifty years older than Kíli, rather than five). When he was feeling like a pony’s less savory hindquarters, he tripped Kíli and kicked him in the bum with his boot, then laughed at him (the latter he never did in front of other dwarves, which was why Kíli never followed through on his threat to take Fíli to the market and trade him in for a better model). 

This morning, Kíli was _not_ skulking. He walked onto the small field with confidence, chin up and head back. He twirled his practice sword with show and elegance, not catching the damn thing on his arm even once (not always a guarantee). He was one of the first to arrive (Fowl on his shoulder, though she took off to do some hunting as soon as he reached the training area), and he sauntered his way over to Dwalin with a welcoming grin.

“Mr. Dwalin!”

“Kíli,” Dwalin answered, looking suspicious already. What did it say about a dwarf that another dwarf’s good mood made him stiff and suspicious? They really would have to work on Dwalin’s attitude about life one day. “You’re looking . . . awake this morning.”

Kíli nodded agreeably. “I am that. Listen, I have a request.”

“I am shocked.” Dwalin could sound flat and sarcastic in a way no one else could. It was a beautiful thing that Kíli envied and had, as a boy, attempted to emulate. He knew now that it was tragically beyond his talents. He consoled himself with the knowledge that he had a fierce glare when called on, a talent Fíli lacked (it was the eyebrows). “What do you want?”

“I want to spar with Fíli today.”

Dwalin shook his head. “We’ve discussed that. He hands you your ass every time and you don’t learn anything from it. You’re scheduled with Vaen.”

“Give me a chance with Fíli. Just today.” Kíli suspected he was pulling a face his brother and mother accused him of doing on purpose – alternately called “the kitten” or “the puppy” – but he’d never seen the stupid thing, so how was he supposed to do it on purpose? He hoped he just looked both earnest and confident. “It’s been _months_. Almost a _year_.” This was a blatant exaggeration unless a dwarf was extraordinarily bad at math. It was closer to six months since Dwalin had put the two princes in the ring together. “Maybe I’ve gotten better.”

Dwalin took a step back and looked him over. After a long, thoughtful moment, the massive shoulders shrugged. “It’s your funeral, little prince,” he said. “Just remember to come back from the Halls long enough to tell your mother this was all your idea.”

“Will do!” Kíli answered with a cheerful sort of salute. Then he went to go through warm-ups.

Kíli was the tallest of his age-mates. As a result, Dwalin had been teaching him techniques for fighting from above. He preferred the bow, of course, but every dwarf had to have close-combat training. Thorin, too, had told him to take advantage of his greater reach and gifted him with a broadsword to extend it just a bit more. He could hold his own or even defeat all the sparring partners Dwalin or Thorin partnered him with, all of whom were smaller and a bit slower than him.

And now.

 _Now_ his time had come.

Now he would use his greater height and speed to his advantage.

And beat Fíli into the _dirt._

_Finally._

Dwalin went over to talk to Fíli while Kíli stretched a bit, swinging the heavy practice sword. It was weighted to match his proper broadsword, just as Fíli’s twin practice swords were. Training with twin swords was unusual. Most dwarves chose axes, followed by hammers and broadswords. Fíli’s decision to wield twin swords had been met with some derision; despite his stature, Fíli was plenty strong and could have used an axe or mace.

Fíli had dealt with that derision by systematically working his way through the trainees and smirkily beating all of them. 

_Tactics_ , Kíli reminded himself as his brother glanced over at him in surprise. _Fíli uses tactics. Even though he doesn’t look like it, with all the growling and snarling and. Well._

Fíli was fierce when he fought.

“You sure about this, baby brother?” Fíli asked as he sauntered over, the longer of his two swords slung over one shoulder, his hip cocked at a rakish angle. “Last time to change your mind before I wipe the floor with you.” He smirked. “Again.”

Kíli grinned right back at him and stepped forward, right into Fíli’s space. Very deliberately, and with intent to be a pain in the ass, he _tilted his chin downward._ “Oh, I’m sure.”

For the briefest of moments, Fíli faltered. His brows drew together, his smirk fell into a scowl, and he rocked backward slightly on his heels. One hand rose as if to push him away, but didn’t.

Looked like _he_ hadn’t noticed Kíli’s sudden height advantage either.

Kíli tried a smirk on for size.

(The expression felt a bit odd, and judging from Fíli’s return look it was more ridiculous and less Fíli-like than he’d hoped, so he let it go.)

Fíli’s eyes narrowed. He resettled on the balls of his feet and deliberately drew the second blade at his waist. “Don’t blame me when you’re spitting out dirt for the next three days, brother.”

“As long as you forgive me because you’re shaking it out of your hair for at least a week,” Kíli answered, rather pleased with the comeback ( _Not bad, Kíli, not bad_ , he congratulated himself).

Fíli snorted.

“Back up!” Dwalin ordered. “You don’t start a fight nose to nose! They’ll come at you from a distance!” The boys separated, Kíli shifting the single sword in his hands and missing the weight of his bow across his back. Usually he wore an older bow when he was sparring, since he couldn’t imagine going out without it; Dwalin insisted they practice as they would fight. He’d left it home today out of nothing more complicated than excitement. He felt strange without the familiar weight across his shoulders.

Fíli’s eyes narrowed, the blue managing somehow to go from sparkling-charming-big-brother to hard-gonna-kick-your-head-in son of Durin (Kíli _knew_ this was his imagination, but he couldn’t fight the feeling; Fíli’s entire body changed when he was fighting and it was fairly terrifying in the right circumstances).

Kíli shifted lightly on his feet. 

_Use your reach, lad._

They circled each other.

 _Don’t let them in close_.

Fíli’s eyes were assessing, barely flickering to check the movement of Kíli’s hands, of his feet.

_Protect your middle._

“You forgot your bow, brother.”

Kíli smiled sunnily. “Oh, I won’t need it today.”

_Use the full range of movement to attack over the entire torso._

Kíli gave in first, and lunged forward, sword striking downward so Fíli would have to shift back and raise his arms to block it. 

Their swords clanged together, and Fíli gave a little grunt of surprise.

Kil grinned in triumph.

It was . . . his last grin.

Because Fíli gave a growl and suddenly-

Well.

 _This_ was a familiar feeling.

Kíli was scrambling in less than two minutes (two very _long_ minutes, why wasn’t his height _helping_ , why was Fíli still– _that hurt_!) and-

-on his back in three.

Fíli grinned, twisted the broadsword out of his hand, and _sat on him_ , pinning him expertly in place while lazily (that was just _showing off_ ) drawing a knife from his coat and tapping Kíli’s shoulder with the flat of the blade, right next to his neck. “I win,” he said.

_Unnecessarily._

Kíli glared at him.

Fíli smiled back. Winningly. 

“Want to go again?”

Kíli huffed and kicked his legs (or tried to, who taught Fíli to do that?). “Yes!”

And.

Repeat.

Once more?

Again.

Kíli was _seething_ (and in the dirt. _Again_. At least he wasn’t face-down and-)

Fíli pinned him _again_ and leaned down this time, looking so thoroughly amused that Kíli had to fight the urge to punch him in the face. 

When Fíli rested his elbows on Kíli’s shoulders, Kíli stopped fighting the urge (only to find he couldn’t really get around Fíli’s shoulders to his face and he just ended up punching him sort of in the upper arm, which wasn’t at all the effect he was going for.)

“I told you this would happen,” came Dwalin’s voice, but Kíli ignored it.

“I am curious why you insisted on fighting me today,” Fíli said in his best _curious and supportive big brother_ voice, which was playing dirty and he knew it. “Just in the mood for some bruises?”

Kíli harrumphed and wiggled.

Fíli froze.

It was just for a moment. No one else would have noticed it. But Kíli, covered as he was by his brother’s body, did. 

Fíli froze, and his eyes widened for a breath, his lips parting, and a strange expression flickered across his face.

_Anger? No. Not anger. Surprise? A faint flush above his beard and-_

Fíli leapt suddenly to his feet, holding a hand out but not-

Not quite looking Kíli in the face.

What was _that_ about?

Kíli accepted the hand and Fíli pulled, taking his full weight and stepping back just so to lift Kíli to his feet. It was a bit like flying (Fowl would likely disagree). It wasn’t the first time Fíli had done that, but it was the first time that he held on to Kíli’s hand for a moment and it felt…

Awkward?

Why?

“Finally noticed you’re taller than your brother, did you?”

Both Kíli and Fíli jumped at Dwalin’s voice. 

Fíli scowled (which was at least a comfortably familiar expression) and glared in Kíli’s direction. But then the scowl fell into a fairly confused twist of the mouth. “What?” He leaned back slightly, tilted his head, and-

Kíli slung his blade over his shoulder and tried on a smirk of his own. 

Because he may have had his ass handed to him (thrice, ugh), but the narrow-eyed suspicion on Fíli’s face now made up for it (a little).

“You . . .” Fíli frowned, but didn’t finish the sentence. (How could he looks so _suspicious_ , like this was some grand conspiracy?). He shifted his glare to Kíli’s boots (he was looking for lifts, how precious).

The moment was tragically interrupted by Jaret, a dwarf only a few months younger than Fíli who fought with a mace and had no sense of humor whatsoever.

“Fíli! If you’re done humiliating your brother, how about a real fight?”

Fíli turned at the (not at all amusing, thank you, Jaret) question, shot Kíli one more confused-suspicious-you-will-pay-for-this look, and took off at a jog.

As soon as his back was turned, Kíli lowered the sword and wrapped one arm awkwardly behind himself to press a fist hard against his lower back.

Because. _Ow._

(Thank goodness Fíli had been successfully distracted, because all Kíli wanted right now was a hot bath and some salts for the bruises and – _this had been a really bad idea, why didn’t Fowl tell him this was a bad idea._ )

Dwalin looked thoroughly amused, in that thoroughly annoying way of his that made Thorin punch him in the shoulder on more than one occasion when he thought the boys weren’t looking. “I remember that day,” he said in a commiserating sort of tone, one giant hand landing a blow on Kíli’s shoulder that was meant to be fatherly (uncle-ry? Uncle’s-best-friend-ry?), but made Kíli feel like something important had just been dislocated. “Same thing happened to me.” Dwalin lifted the other hand to scratch at his beard. “You do realize, lad, that just because I’m teaching you to fight from above doesn’t mean your brother isn’t learning to fight from below.”

Oh.

…..Right.

That. Made sense.

“Don’t worry, you’ll catch up with him soon enough. I did, and you will, too. Well. Maybe.” Dwalin frowned. “Possibly. In. Distance fighting.”

Kíli sighed.

Dwalin shrugged. They both knew comforting was not the warrior’s greatest skill. “Come on then, let’s get you into a proper spar.”

“I thought maybe I’d just head home and-”

“Nurse your wounds? Oh no.” Dwalin smiled and it was so, so horrible when Dwalin smiled. It meant bad, painful things. Always. (Unless there were cookies in the vicinity, then it just meant “Dwalin gets all the cookies” which was bad, but not painful.) “No, I think that sort of stone-headed foolhardy behavior deserves an extra-long session. Besides, you’ll feel better if you keep all those muscles your brother bruised loose.”

Kíli heaved another sigh, shifting both shoulders in the process, but he trudged after Dwalin none-the-less.

At least he could still reach the high shelves and Fíli couldn’t.

That was something.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, the boys are growing up and moving beyond childish firsts to some more. Adult ones. So there is a sequel in the works with a much more advanced rating. (But they will continue to be adorable dorks about it, definitely.) 
> 
> (And I reserve the right to go back and add bb stories if I feel the need 0_~ because this has been my favorite series of scenes to write!)
> 
> "First Kiss" was inspired in part from real life. So is this one. I am 5'8" and my older brother is 5'5.5". This fact sneaked up on us when we were 12 and 17. And he can still kick my butt pretty effortlessly. Poor me.

**Author's Note:**

> [Blanket Permission Statement](http://dragonsquill.tumblr.com/permission)


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